


In the Hall of the Wood Elf King

by HASA_Archivist



Category: The Lord of the Rings - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: 3rd Age - The Stewards, Canon - Engaging gap-filler, Canon - Enhances original, Canon - Fills plot hole(s), Canon - Non-canonical to good purpose, Canon - Outstanding AU/reinterpretation, Characters - Family Dynamics, Characters - Friendship, Characters - Good use of minor character(s), Characters - Outstanding OC(s), Humor, Plot - Can't stop reading, Plot - Good pacing, Plot - I reread often, Plot - Joy, Subjects - Culture(s), Subjects - Economics, Subjects - Geography, Subjects - Legends/Myth/History, Subjects - Medical/Healing, Subjects - Military, Subjects - Plants/Environment, Subjects - Politics, Subjects - Technology, Writing - Clear prose, Writing - Engaging style, Writing - Every word counts, Writing - Good use of humor, Writing - Well-handled dialogue
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-17
Updated: 2002-09-04
Packaged: 2018-03-23 08:48:07
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 30
Words: 69,686
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3762058
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HASA_Archivist/pseuds/HASA_Archivist
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The Hobbit AU. While the Dwarves are imprisoned in Thranduil's dungeons, Bilbo meets Legolas quite by accident. We find out why Elves don't smoke pipeweed.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Once upon a Time in Mirkwood

**Author's Note:**

> Note from the HASA Transition Team: This story was originally archived at [HASA](http://fanlore.org/wiki/Henneth_Ann%C3%BBn_Story_Archive), which closed in February 2015. To preserve the archive, we began manually importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project in February 2015. We posted announcements about the move, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this author, please contact The HASA Transition Team using the e-mail address on the [HASA collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/hasa/profile).

Greetings! This is my “Hobbit” based fic. AU needless to say since Bilbo  
and Legolas never met. Or at least Master Tolkien never said that they  
did. Kudos to my reviewers who noticed the pipe jokes in the last chapter  
of “An Orc in Rivendell”! This is the story of the pipe and why Elves  
don’t smoke pipeweed. My version anyhow. Part of this is taken from “The  
Hobbit”. It is not necessary to have read my other fics as this one takes  
place many, many years before those. There may be a few jokes in reference  
to my others, but again your enjoyment of this tale does not require  
knowledge of them. Enjoy!

 

 

Chapter 1 – Once Upon A Time In Mirkwood

Bilbo Baggins gazed through the pipe smoke at the small figure  
huddled on the plump pillow in the chair on the opposite side of the  
hearth. Compassion flooded the bachelor Hobbit as he watched a small hand  
reach up unobtrusively to wipe away the tears that trickled from the sad  
blue eyes.

: Poor child. : He thought. : Lost both parents at once and brought  
to visit in a strange place with a strange cousin. : Well, he didn’t  
consider himself strange, but he knew that certain people did. He felt  
that he was a most ordinary Hobbit, or nearly so.

Bilbo adored children though he had none of his own. Certainly he  
preferred them to adults. Children were always more willing to listen to  
his stories and didn’t look at him strangely when he told them of Dwarves,  
Wizards, Elves or Dragons. They were always fascinated and asked all the  
right questions, where as the adults almost always looked skeptical and  
asked all the wrong questions.

“Frodo my lad, would you like to hear a story?”

The little Hobbit looked up at his cousin, wet eyes wide. He opened  
his mouth to speak, but no words formed, so he merely nodded.

Bilbo smiled, leaning back in his own chair, feeling the cushion  
shift beneath him. He thought for a moment, pipe clamped between his  
teeth. He watched the fragrant smoke wreath about his head. He withdrew  
the pipe and blew a smoke ring. Frodo gasped and smiled, leaning forward  
slightly. Bilbo smiled and blew another one. When many of them floated  
about the ceiling, Bilbo laughed in delight.

“Have I ever told you about the time I shared a pipe with an Elf  
prince? Elves don’t smoke, you know. And my goodness! I found out why!”

Frodo’s eyes widened even further as Bilbo laughed. He shook his  
head; dark curls glistening in the late afternoon sun that crept in at the  
window just to play upon the child’s hair.

“Well then. Would you like to hear about it?”

Frodo nodded solemnly, his tears forgotten for the moment.

“First let me get you something to eat. Would you like a cookie?  
Storytelling makes one hungry, you know.”

The child stared at his cousin in wonder. Bilbo bustled about piling  
biscuits, cookies, apples, and cheese on a tray, which he placed on the  
table between their chairs. Then he brought another tray loaded with a  
teapot, cups, plates, and napkins and set it by the first. His eyes  
twinkling, he handed Frodo a plate with cookies and cheese on it.

“Eat up, Frodo lad. Eat up while I tell you a grand adventure I once  
had in the Hall of the Wood Elf King.”

~ ~ ** ~ ~ ** ~ ~ ** ~ ~ ** ~ ~

 

 

 

 

Poor Mr. Baggins – it was a weary long time that he lived in that place all  
alone, and always in hiding, never daring to take off his ring, hardly  
daring to sleep, even tucked away in the darkest and remotest corners he  
could find. – The Hobbit

 

 

Mirkwood Forest was not a place where one would want to settle down  
and make a home, Bilbo thought grimly as he stared at the dark, twisted  
trees surrounding him. The undergrowth beneath the fell trees was tangled  
with thorns and filled with odd, unsettling noises: grunts and shuffling  
that filled the Hobbit with dread. It seemed always dark here; with only  
an occasional spear of sunlight filtering down to give them hope in this  
stifling place of fear.

They had journeyed for several days now since Gandalf had left them  
at the Forest Gate. They would have taken the Old Forest Road, but Beorn  
had warned them against it. Goblins used it, he had said and the eastern  
end was overgrown and led to impassable marshes where the paths were lost.  
And it would take them too far south anyway. He advised them to take a  
little know Elf path to the north saying it lead almost straight toward the  
Lonely Mountain, which was, of course, their destination.

Mirkwood seemed a place to avoid, but Gandalf had said it wasn’t wise  
to try and go round it. To the north were the Grey Mountains, two hundred  
or so miles away and there were no safe paths there. It would be a way  
haunted with goblins, hobgoblins, and orcs. And they had seen enough of  
Goblins lately! In the south was the tower of the Necromancer and they  
should in no wise go that way.

“Stick to the forest track, keep your spirits up, hope for the best,  
and with a tremendous slice of luck you may come out one day and see the  
Long Marshes lying below you, and beyond them, high in the East, the Lonely  
Mountain, where dear old Smaug lives, though I hope he is not expecting  
you.” The Wizard had told them cheerily before he had ridden off. “Good-  
bye! Be good, take care of yourself – and DON’T LEAVE THE PATH!” He had  
been emphatic on that last point.

They had heeded his advice and stayed on the path, though the path  
didn’t offer them much comfort. Stretching on either side of it were  
thick, dark cobwebs clinging to the trees, tangling in the lower branches.  
There were none on the path for which Bilbo was very grateful. What sort  
of spider could spin such large, sturdy webs? He was certain that he  
didn’t wish to find out. His hand often strayed to his little sword that  
he had gotten in the Troll’s cave. So much had happened that it seemed  
ages since then.

It had seemed ages since they had entered this bothersome forest.  
The Dwarves were grumbling quietly about how stuffy the air was, why was  
there no wind beneath these cursed trees. They were all tired and hungry,  
though Bilbo felt certain that he was hungriest of them all. Never in all  
his life did he remember being so deprived of food. They had shot one of  
the strange black squirrels that haunted the trees, but it had tasted so  
horrible they never shot another. Bilbo would spend the day trekking dully  
behind the Dwarves making lists of food in his head that he would eat when  
this adventure finally came to an end and he could go home to the Shire and  
his house, Bag End. Not that the Dwarves had left much in the pantries  
after their unexpected arrival and subsequent party. But that could be  
remedied quickly when he returned.

: If I returned. : He thought glumly.

It was that very day that they came upon a wide stream of swift  
flowing black water. But Beorn had warned them of this place as well, so  
regardless of their great thirst they didn’t fill their water bags here.  
Who wanted to drink enchanted water that brought on great drowsiness and  
forgetfulness? A bridge had spanned it at one time, but it had rotted and  
fallen away into the water, leaving only broken, slimy posts near the bank,  
tangled in ivy and woodbine.

Bilbo had noticed a boat on the other side about twelve yards from  
them.

“Twelve yards!” Thorin thundered. “I should have thought it was  
thirty at least, but my eyes don’t see as well as they used a hundred years  
ago. Still twelve yards is as good as a mile. We can’t jump it, and we  
daren’t try to wade or swim it.”

“Can any of you throw a rope?”

“What is the good of that? The boat is sure to be tied up, even if  
we could hook it, which I doubt.”

“I don’t believe it is tied,” said Bilbo, shooting a frustrated look  
at their leader, who was glowering beneath his eyebrows. “Though of course  
I can’t be sure in this light; but it looks to me as if it was just drawn  
up on the bank, which is low just there where the path goes down into the  
water.”

Thorin moved to stand by the Hobbit and was peering into the gloom  
across the water. He wasn’t certain if he trusted the Hobbit’s eyes any  
more than his own.

“Dori is the strongest, but Fili is the youngest and still has the  
best sight. Come here, Fili, and see if you can see the boat Mr. Baggins  
is talking about.” He said, with nary a glance at Bilbo.

Fili thought that he could see the boat and a rope was brought to  
him. It was the longest one they had with them with a large iron hook  
fastened on one end. Fili took it and weighed it in his hand then he  
whirled it about his head and threw it out across the water.

“Not far enough!” Bilbo said, when a loud splash filled the air. “A  
couple of feet and you would have dropped it on to the boat. Try again. I  
don’t suppose the magic is strong enough to hurt you, if you just touch a  
bit of wet rope.” He added, seeing the young Dwarf’s reluctance to allow  
his hand to come in contact with anything that had been drenched in the  
black enchanted waters of Mirkwood.

Fili made a face then pulled the hook from the water, looking as if  
he might be struck dead at any moment. Then he hurled it with even greater  
strength than his first throw.

There was a rustling and they knew he had overthrown this time. It  
had landed in the tangle of brush beyond on the far bank.

“Steady.” Bilbo cautioned. “You have thrown it right into the wood  
on the other side now. Draw it back gently.”

They all held their breath as their companion hauled the rope back as  
slowly as he could.

“Carefully!” Bilbo hissed. “It is lying on the boat; let’s hope the  
hook will catch.”

Suddenly the rope went taut and Fili pulled as hard as he could. But  
to no avail. It was tied after all. Kili came to help followed by Oin and  
Gloin. The four tugged mightily until they all went tumbling onto their  
backs as the rope holding the boat gave way. Luckily Bilbo acted quickly  
and grabbed the fallen rope. The boat leapt forward being pulled along by  
the strong current.

“Help!” The Hobbit shouted and Balin leapt forward to grab it before  
it sailed past and was lost. They all looked at one another with the  
satisfaction of a job well done. The boat was theirs.

On the other side of the bank hidden behind the tall dark ivy twined  
trees, three pairs of eyes watched in startled amazement as their boat was  
pulled from its moorings and hauled across the dark water.

“What do those Dwarves think they are doing with our boat?” One of  
them asked, anger and disdain coloring his voice as his grey eyes narrowed.

“They are stealing our boat!” Another exclaimed, his grey eyes wide  
with shock as he stared at the Dwarves in amazement at their audacity.  
“How can they! Why we should –“

“Silence, Brethil. They will hear you.” The third one cautioned,  
his blue eyes watching as the Dwarves discussed who would go over in the  
boat first.

“I’m always last and I don’t like it.” A particularly fat Dwarf was  
saying petulantly. “It’s somebody else’s turn today.”

“That sounds like you, Brethil.” The other grey- eyed Elf said with  
a sideways glance at his companions.

Brethil drew a breath to protest, but a hand on his arm stopped his  
words.

“Don’t tease him, Tavor. Quiet.”

“Yes, Prince Legolas.” Tavor said with a slight, sarcastic smile.

“You should not be so fat.” Another Dwarf said, his white beard  
wagging under his blue hood, the silver tassel dancing.

: You should not be so loud. : The blue eyed one thought with  
amusement, his hand dropping from Brethil’s arm.

“Don’t start grumbling against orders, or something bad will happen  
to you.” The Dwarf finished, glaring at the fat one threateningly.

“There aren’t any oars. How are you going to push the boat back to  
the far bank?”

The three Elves looked at one another. What was that one? He didn’t  
look like a Dwarf, as he had no beard, though he was just as short, perhaps  
even shorter.

“Give me another length of rope and another hook.” A yellow bearded  
Dwarf said. He took the rope and hurled it across the water as high as he  
could, right into the branches of the tree behind which the Elves were  
hiding.

The three crouched down in shock, covering their heads as if they  
feared the heavy hook would tangle about them instead of the branches. But  
it didn’t fall and the Dwarves began to clamber into the boat.

The three Elves crept silently backward into the darkness of the  
surrounding trees. They watched as the Dwarves came ashore and sent the  
boat back for the others. As the last one – the fat one - was preparing to  
leave the boat there was the sound of flying hooves and a deer charged out  
of the underbrush and into the startled Dwarves. It leapt high and sprang  
across the water. But Thorin had fitted an arrow to his stout, short bow  
when he had stepped off the boat, fearing the arrival of its owner. Now he  
loosed the arrow and the deer fell as it made the safety of the brush on  
the other side.

“Your father is not going to be happy about that, Legolas.”

Legolas grimaced. No, Thranduil would not like his prey to escape  
thus. And let alone to be felled by a Dwarf’s arrow.

But the sudden shout drew his attention back to the figures on the  
bank.

“Bombur has fallen in! Bombur is drowning.”

The Elves watched as the fat Dwarf scrabbled at the slimy roots at  
the stream’s edge, the black water pulling at him as the boat disappeared  
in a swift rush of current. He had fallen in, startled by the deer’s  
sudden leap over his head.

“Stupid Dwarves!” Tavor growled, his hand clenching on his bow.  
“Look what they’ve done now.”

The Dwarves threw a rope with a hook on the end to their companion  
and quickly pulled him to shore as his hand closed about its length. They  
laid him on the bank, amazed that he was fast asleep, the rope clenched so  
tightly in his fists that they could not remove it.

It was then that the sound of hunting horns and the baying of dogs  
filled the air.

“Your lord father.” Tavor said with a glance at Legolas, elegant  
eyebrow arched.

Legolas sighed and shook his head.

“He will not be pleased when he learns of this. Dwarves in Mirkwood.  
Shooting the king’s deer.”

“I’m not telling him.” Brethil said quickly, well knowing how the  
king’s ire would be raised not only against the Dwarves, but the bearers of  
the news.

Tavor snorted.

“I won’t be the one either.”

They both turned to look at their prince, Thranduil’s youngest son.

He scowled, turning to look at the Dwarves one last time.

“Perhaps it won’t be necessary. They will probably be leaving soon  
anyway.”

The three feeling very relieved that they wouldn’t have to bear the  
news to their king turned and made their way into the forest, leaving the  
very disconcerted Dwarves staring at their slumbering companion, a smile of  
deep content on his fat face.


	2. Of Singing Orcs and Butterflies

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Hobbit AU. While the Dwarves are imprisoned in Thranduil's dungeons, Bilbo meets Legolas quite by accident. We find out why Elves don't smoke pipeweed.

In six days’ time the Dwarves still had not come to the eastern edge  
of Mirkwood. Their food and water supplies were nearly gone even though  
Bombur, who certainly consumed the most, still slept quite contentedly.  
Little did they know they were being trailed by the three Elves, who  
couldn’t believe the Dwarves were still in the confines of the forest  
moving slowly toward its edge.

To relieve their consternation and the tingle of apprehension they  
couldn’t quite shake – somehow they knew Thranduil would find out and then  
he would turn his anger onto those who had neglected to alert him to the  
Dwarves’ presence in his realm – they began to play tricks on the Dwarves,  
trying to frighten them into fleeing away at a much accelerated pace.

Bilbo shuffled through the dead leaves underfoot, not noticing the  
color changes as autumn came on. The air was stifling and close. He wiped  
his brow with a red handkerchief, one of Elrond’s, and glanced about. They  
were traveling through a grove of beech trees, the shadows not so deep  
here, nor so dark. But the sigh of the wind that wound through the line of  
trees sounded sad and lonely. Lost.

: Bothersome Dwarves! : He thought glumly. : I wish I had never  
come on this adventure. Nasty, disturbing, uncomfortable thing! Oh, why  
did I ever agree to come? :

Suddenly the sound of singing drifted to them. They froze in their  
tracks, Ori nearly plowing into Nori.

“Not again.” Thorin muttered, trying not to show how disconcerted he  
truly was.

Sometimes it was laughter and sometimes, as now, it was singing.  
They stared into the trees but saw nothing.

“Goblins!” Oin hissed, his hand moving to his axe. “Or Orcs.”

The others reached for their weapons as well and Dori and Kili lay  
Bombur on the ground where he snored quite happily.

“It can’t be.” Bilbo said. “Goblins don’t sound like that when they  
sing.” He remembered them singing as they surrounded the trees that he,  
Gandalf and the Dwarves had climbed to escape the Wargs just before the  
Eagles rescued them. “And I don’t know if Orcs sing. I doubt it. But…”  
He drew his sword a few inches from its sheath to see if it was glowing. It  
wasn’t and he heaved a sigh of relief. “Let’s go on. Please.”

Thorin agreed and they were soon moving forward for the music was  
eerie and strange.

Tavor clapped one hand over his mouth to keep from laughing as they  
hustled off. He followed them silently for a time then went to find  
Brethil and Legolas.

Legolas was seated on a tree branch high above the ground singing,  
his fair voice raised in a song that mocked the Dwarves’ heavy footfalls,  
their beards, and their fears.

“They have moved on.” Tavor said, grinning at Brethil who was seated  
beneath the tree checking his arrows.

Legolas finished his song and gazed down at his two friends, smiling  
with delight.

“Did they like it? I made it especially for them.”

Tavor smirked up at him.

“The strange Dwarf with furry feet knows you are not a Goblin.” He  
paused until Legolas snorted, then said slyly, “But he thinks you might be  
an Orc.”

“What?!” Legolas’ eyes widened in horror and he nearly tumbled from  
his perch in disbelief. “An Orc?! Don’t be ridiculous, Tavor. Orcs don’t  
sing.” He scowled, feeling highly insulted and dropped to the ground.

Brethil was giggling, trying to stifle the sound, but couldn’t quite  
manage it.

“An Orc!” He chortled. “Legolas, Prince of the Singing Orcs.” He  
rolled on the ground, howling with delight.

“Oh, shut up, Brethil. It’s not that funny.” Legolas muttered then  
turned to Tavor whose lips were twitching with amusement. “Which way did  
they go?”

“Im alcar gar gul, Caun ned Yrch.” [I do not have (that) knowledge,  
Prince of Orcs.] He said, bowing slightly.

Legolas glared at him, growling in Sindarin. He grabbed up his bow  
and quiver and stalked away.

Brethil sat up, still laughing.

“Is he going the right way?” He asked, watching Legolas retreating  
form.

“No.” Tavor grinned, folding his arms over his chest.

“When are you going to tell him that he is going the wrong way?”

“Oh…I don’t know. It would appear that Orc princes don’t have a good  
sense of direction.”

Brethil laughed again, standing and taking up his own weapons.

“Oh, well.” Tavor sighed, then grinned again suddenly. “I know how  
to stop him.”

As Bilbo and the Dwarves trudged on, another voice sang into the  
trees. But then they hurried away at yet a greater speed as a yell of  
outrage shattered the air.

“O Caun ned Gliriel Yrch!

Le rinciel I raeg athrad.

I Anfang drega amrun - u annun.”

[O Prince of Singing Orcs!

You (are) moving the wrong way.

The Dwarves flee east – not west.]

 

 

Two days later, with weary feet, Bilbo and the Dwarves stumbled  
downward into a small valley of oak trees. One of the trees was larger  
than the others, the leaves on the spreading branches not yet turned to the  
bright copper color they would wear later in the season.

: You should be in the Shire. : He thought with wonder, moving to  
brush the mottled bark with his fingers.

“Is there no end to the accursed forest?” Thorin growled suddenly,  
his eyes sweeping the seemingly endless circle of trees surrounding them.  
Then his gaze fell upon Bilbo who was smiling up into the oak tree’s  
interlaced branches high above his curly head.

“Somebody must climb a tree and see if he can get his head above the  
roof and have a look round. The only way is to choose the tallest tree  
that overhangs the path.”

As one the Dwarves turned to look at Bilbo.

The Hobbit turned to them, looking bewildered.

“What? Oh, dear. My good Dwarves, surely you cannot mean for me to  
_”

“Mr. Baggins, that is precisely what we mean.” Thorin continued.  
“You are the only one who is light enough to climb to the top and see  
exactly where we are. And hopefully see the way out of here.”

: You mean that I am the expendable one. : Bilbo thought bitterly  
as the Dwarves clustered about him and hoisted him into the lower branches.  
: And if I fell it wouldn’t really matter to the rest of you as long as I  
told you the way out before I hit the ground. : But he merely sighed and  
grabbed at the branches. It did no good to argue with Thorin Oakenshield.  
Since Bilbo didn’t have much experience climbing trees it wasn’t that easy  
at first. He clambered his way upward, hands and feet slipping on the  
greenish bark.

: What if one of those web spinners lived up here? : He wondered  
with a chill of fear running up his spine. But as he gazed upward, he saw  
nothing furry or hairy or large enough to be the creature that had made the  
thick webs. So he continued on.

Once he slipped altogether and barely managed to stop himself from  
plummeting to the ground. He stood on a stout branch hugging the tree’s  
trunk, panting with fear.

“Hobbits are not made for this.” He moaned, squeezing his eyes shut  
when he made the mistake of looking down. But finally – after what he was  
sure was hours and hours of climbing – he poked his head through the  
topmost leaves and felt the sun on his face for the first time since they  
had entered Mirkwood. He smiled, blinking at the sunlight that embraced  
him. He even laughed, when at last his eyes adjusted to the brilliance, at  
the small spiders that did inhabit these top branches.

“To think I was afraid of what I might find here.” He chuckled  
watching them scurry away from him.

And – oh! The butterflies! Hundreds of butterflies floated all  
about him born on the air by their dark velvety black wings.

Oh, it was glorious up here. He could barely hear the calls of the  
Dwarves below. It was quite easy to ignore them at this height. A cool  
breeze ruffled his hair and caressed his face. Glorious indeed.

But eventually the cries of the Dwarves intruded and he opened his  
eyes once more and peered about, remembering why he was here in the first  
place.

As far as he could see in any direction was an endless green sea.

“Oh, bother.” He muttered, listening to his stomach growl. “Maybe  
there is no way out of this forest and we will just wander about forever  
until we collapse from hunger and thirst.” He sighed, watching a butterfly  
flit about his face and finally settle on his hand. When it fluttered away  
he began his descent.

As he reached the ground, he dug Elrond’s handkerchief from his  
pocket and wiped his hot face. He noticed the scratches on his hands, but  
thought nothing of them. Misery at his report overwhelmed him. All the  
joy he had experienced in the sun and breeze, surrounded by butterflies and  
green leaves, was gone. He quickly told the others what he had seen, and  
their hope died as well.

“The forest goes on for ever and ever and ever in all directions.”  
The Dwarves complained. “Whatever shall we do? And what is the use of  
sending a Hobbit!” They muttered, frowning at their burglar.

They didn’t seem interested in the butterflies or the cool breeze,  
which only seemed to upset them more.

“You could climb up there for yourselves.” He said at last.  
“Perhaps one of you might see the way out.”

But the Dwarves only glared at him and continued to complain.

Bilbo shook his head in consternation.

“Bothersome Dwarves.” He mumbled, heading away from them and plopped  
down beneath another tree and pulled out his pipe. He didn’t fill the bowl  
as full as he would have liked, since he wanted his pipeweed to last a  
while longer yet. But as the smoke filled the air, his eyes closing, he  
enjoyed a little of what he had felt in the top of the oak tree return. He  
smiled.

 

 

“Why are they always smoking?” Brethil said, wrinkling his nose as  
the three watched from their perch not far away.

“And complaining. And bickering. And – “

“Enough, Tavor. I think we understand what you are saying.” Legolas  
sighed, shooting a glance at his friend.

Tavor smiled lazily and shrugged.

“They do make an inordinate amount of noise you must admit. And I  
needn’t remind you, my prince, that they are getting awfully close to – “

“I know, Tavor. I know.” Legolas scowled down at the Dwarves. Why  
hadn’t they left the forest yet? They were getting too close to his  
father’s Hall for comfort.

Thranduil enjoyed his excursions to the east and his hunting forays  
deeper into Mirkwood. He usually came in this direction, south of his  
Hall. What would happen then? Could he trust that he, Tavor, and Brethil  
would all be able to keep silent about their knowledge of these Dwarves, if  
his father happened them upon? His eyes slid to his two friends. Tavor  
would probably be able to keep from saying anything incriminating, but  
Brethil…

Legolas frowned and looked away. Discretion was not one of the  
younger Elf’s strong points. He could easily let slip everything he knew.  
And if confronted by Thranduil outright…

: We don’t stand a chance. : He thought despairingly. : Why don’t  
they just leave the forest?! :

Below them the Dwarves continued their growling and gripping. And  
Bilbo puffed quietly away on his pipe, content at least for the moment,  
remembering the sun, the breeze, and the butterflies.


	3. Hunger, Thirst, Singing Orcs, and Bombur Snoring

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Hobbit AU. While the Dwarves are imprisoned in Thranduil's dungeons, Bilbo meets Legolas quite by accident. We find out why Elves don't smoke pipeweed.

“Eggs and bacon; toast with jam – raspberry jam; pancakes drenched  
with rich brown syrup; slices of apple dipped in honey; strawberries in  
cream – “

“Would you please not talk about food, Bilbo.” Gloin called to the  
Hobbit.

They were all in a bad mood that morning as they prepared to set out  
again. They had eaten the last bite of food the evening before and now far  
overhead they could hear rain pattering on the leaves. But only the  
occasional drop made its torturous way to the forest floor. This only  
served to remind them of their thirst.

“Accursed forest.” Thorin croaked as he pulled his hood up about his  
face.

“It’s your turn to help carry Bombur.” Dwalin said to Bifur as they  
surveyed their still slumbering companion.

“Will he ever wake up? How many days has it been? My arms and back  
are still sore from the last time I carried him.”

Dwalin snorted adjusting his pack straps.

“I don’t recall. All the days seem much the same to me. Hunger,  
thirst, Orcs singing, Bombur snoring.” He shrugged.

“Who is snoring?”

Everyone started and turned to stare at the sleeping Dwarf who had  
just spoken.

His eyes popped open and he sat up, scratching his head.

“My goodness!” he exclaimed. “Where are we? Why are we sitting in  
a forest?”

They gaped at him in ill concealed astonishment.

“You’re awake!” Ori squeaked, dropping his pack to the ground.

“Of course I am. Where are we?” he repeated climbing to his feet.  
“What is there to eat, Mr. Baggins? What have we left in your cupboards?  
Is there any pork pie left? It was quite excellent.” His brows furrowed.  
“Why are you all staring at me? When did we decide to have a picnic?” He  
glanced about in bewilderment. “Rather a gloomy place for a picnic  
really.”

Thorin was the first to find his voice.

“Bombur, don’t you know where we are?”

The fat Dwarf blinked, his eyes scanning the trees.

“The woods near Mr. Baggins’ house, is my guess. But why are we  
picnicking? I do believe it is starting to rain.”

“Bombur, don’t you remember falling into that black stream? When the  
deer jumped over your head.”

“What black stream? What are you speaking of, Thorin?”

The other Dwarves and Bilbo glanced uneasily at one another.

“You don’t remember the Trolls, Bombur?” Gloin asked his face  
troubled.

“Or the Goblins?”

“The Eagles?”

“The fire?”

“The Wolves?”

“Beorn’s house? Surely you remember that. We ate quite well there.”

Bombur stared at them stupefied.

“I am certain that if we ate well there, I would remember it.” he  
said after a moment, feeling rather cross.

“I guess we’d better tell him everything.” Bilbo suggested, settling  
on the ground wishing he had something to chew on as they told the Dwarf  
the long tale of their adventures since leaving Bag End. He wondered how  
oak leaves tasted.

After all was told, and a long exciting tale it was, and Bombur was  
informed that they were out of food, he dropped heavily to the ground and  
began to weep into his hands.

“Why did I ever wake up! I was having such beautiful dreams. I  
dreamed I was walking in a forest rather like this one…”

“You were being carried through a forest rather like this one.” Dori  
said under his breath. Being the strongest one had its drawbacks.

“Only lit with torches on the trees and lamps swinging from the  
branches and fires burning on the ground; and there was a great feast going  
on –“

Several of Bilbo’s companions groaned at this and the Hobbit’s  
stomach rumbled unhappily at this reminder of the depravity it was  
suffering. The oak leaves were starting to look rather tasty.

“Going on forever.” Bombur smiled slightly, though he clutched his  
own empty stomach. Dream food wasn’t very substantial. “A woodland king  
was there with a crown of leaves, and there was a merry singing – “

“He heard the Orcs, too.” Oin whispered, tugging nervously at his  
beard.

“…and I could not count or describe the things there were to eat and  
drink.”

“You need not try.” Thorin interrupted with a fierce scowl. “In  
fact if you can’t talk of something else, you had better be silent. We are  
quite annoyed enough with you as it is.”

There were many rumbles of assent to this statement and an especially  
loud snort from Dori.

“If you hadn’t waked up, we should have left you to your idiotic  
dreams in the forest; you are no joke to carry even after weeks of short  
commons.” Thorin stood suddenly and pulled on his woefully light pack.

The others followed suit, ignoring poor Bombur who complained that  
his legs didn’t fell quite right and he wasn’t certain that he could go on.  
After all, he reminded them. They had eaten food that rightfully should  
have been his. They all turned and glared so fiercely at him that he  
whimpered and picked up his own pack and slung it disconsolately over his  
shoulder. Suddenly several packs hit him in the back. Twelve to be exact.  
Only Bilbo had kept his, not wanting to take a chance at loosing what few  
things he still possessed in case Bombur fell into another stream.

“Why did you do that?” Bombur whined.

“Because you are going to carry them all.” Thorin said, with a grin.  
“You owe us that much for making us carry you for so long.” And with that  
he strode off with great purpose.

The other Dwarves grinned at one another, a few slapping Bombur on  
the back as they passed him, rather harder than was necessary in some  
cases. Bilbo couldn’t suppress the smile that teased at his lips as he  
walked by the whimpering Dwarf who had bent to pick up the packs and was  
trying to arrange them suitably.

“This isn’t fair.” he moaned. “I haven’t eaten for days. Please,  
Thorin. I am too weak to carry all these packs.”

“Then go back to sleep and maybe Oin’s singing Orcs will come and  
feed you. That is if they don’t eat you.”

“Singing Orcs?!” Bombur gasped, straightening suddenly and staring  
wildly into the trees. “Eat me! Wait! Wait!” He threw the packs round  
his shoulders and hurried after them, stumbling in his haste as he looked  
back over his shoulder as though he feared an entire hoard of Orcs was  
chasing him.

 

 

“That poor Dwarf.” Brethil breathed, staring after Bombur with pity.  
“Couldn’t we just give – “

“No!” Both Legolas and Tavor hissed, gazing at him in disgust.

“Why not? I just thought – “

“Don’t think, Brethil. It will be your undoing.”

The younger Elf glared at Tavor.

“You at least should feel sorry for him. After all you fell into  
Morn Nen [Black Stream] once yourself.”

“What are you talking about, Brethil?”

Brethil looked at Legolas who was smiling widely. Tavor also turned  
to his prince and was not amused by what he saw in those sparkling blue  
eyes.

“I did not fall into Morn Nen.” he stated. “Don’t you think I would  
remember if I had?”

“No!”

Both Legolas and Brethil burst into amused laughter.

“You are making this up.” Tavor declared in an insulted voice.

“No, we are not. Don’t you remember when you, Legolas, Glamren,  
Darthannan, and I tied a rope across Morn Nen and dared each other to walk  
across it?”

Tavor’s eyes widened, his nostrils flaring. He searched his memory  
frantically for any glimmering that what Brethil was saying was true – or  
as he fervently hoped – not true. He studied their fair faces intently.

“I don’t believe you.” he said finally, turning away from them.  
“You are both enjoying this far too much for it to be true.” : Or, : he  
thought glumly. : Are they enjoying themselves so much because it is true?  
:

“I told you that he wouldn’t remember, Brethil.” Legolas grinned,  
his eyes suddenly gleaming with a wicked light. “And to think that you  
were so worried that he would recall that you pushed him in just as he  
reached the edge.”

“What?!” Tavor wheeled on Brethil, his eyes narrowing in anger.

“Legolas! You said you wouldn’t tell him!” Brethil backed slowly  
away from Tavor who began to advance on him slowly, his fist clenched.

“Oops! I guess I forgot.”

“Brethil! How could you push me into Morn Nen! You will pay for  
that!” Tavor leapt after the younger Elf.

“But Tavor! You don’t even remember it!” Brethil sprinted away,  
running as hard as he could, knowing that he could never outrace his  
friend. He never could.

Legolas laughed loudly, feeling that the debt they owed for calling  
him a singing Orc prince was paid. He loped after them laughing and  
singing.

 

 

Bilbo was walking behind the Dwarves, his smoke the day before and  
the memory of his time in the top of the tree having worked to calm his  
frayed nerves. And of course Bombur’s awakening. It was a relief not to  
hear his snoring after so long. Though now he was whimpering and  
complaining.

:Ah, well. : Bilbo though cheerily. : At least he is awake and  
the others will stop complaining about carrying him. One Dwarf complaining  
is a lot better than twelve. :

He had been humming snatches of songs to help keep his mind from  
his groaning stomach. He thought of songs sung in the Shire, happy folk  
tunes that made him bounce as he walked; then the songs of the Dwarves so  
different and stirring. That was partly to blame for his being here now:  
the stirring of his Took blood that night so long ago in May when he had an  
unexpected party with thirteen Dwarves and a Wizard. Then his mind turned  
to the music he had heard while they were at the Last Homely Home in  
Rivendell.

Elves’ music was different from Hobbit music; or Dwarf music; or for  
that matter Goblin music. And as Bilbo turned this over in his mind,  
something struck him. The Elves of Rivendell were always full of laughter  
and merriment. And singing. He tired to recall some of the words that the  
“Orcs” had sung, comparing them to words he had heard and in some cases  
learned in Elrond’s valley.

“Um, Thorin?”

“What is it, Mr. Baggins?”

“What is the Elvish word for Dwarves?”

“Elvish word? What makes you think that I know any Elvish words?”

“Such a well traveled person as yourself must surely have picked up a  
few words here and there.” Bilbo allowed himself a small smile. He was  
learning how to handle these Dwarves. And flattery never hurt.

“Well, perhaps I have. Let me see.” Thorin furrowed his brows in  
deep thought.

“Would it by any chance by – uh – Anfang?”

“Well, yes. I do believe that you are right. Why do you ask?”

“Well, I was just thinking. Do you remember the singing Orcs?”

“No.” Bombur muttered. He had just managed to catch up to the  
others and was panting slightly. Even nearly empty packs could be  
oppressive if one hadn’t eaten in what seemed like a lifetime.

“Well, I was wondering if perhaps it wasn’t Orcs at all.”

“Of course it was.” Oin spoke up, nervously eyeing the trees.

“I hate to disagree with you, but I don’t think it was, Oin. I think  
it was Elves.”

“Elves? What makes you think that?” Thorin asked.

“Well, I was remembering all the wonderful songs we heard in  
Rivendell. Beautiful songs in Elvish. It seems very similar to what Oin’s  
Orcs were singing. The words, I mean, not the tunes. And well I thought  
there was one word that figured rather prominently in one of the songs we  
heard here. Anfang. And you just said that was the Elvish word for  
Dwarves. I think they were singing about us.”

“About us? Whatever for? I think that is ridiculous.”

“I don’t know, Thorin.” Gloin said, as Kili and Fili nodded in  
agreement. “Perhaps he is right.”

Balin and Dwalin glanced at one another then shrugged.

“We did hear Elves singing in Rivendell and they sounded nothing like  
that.” Oin said, not liking the fact that his grand thought about singing  
Orcs was proving to be wrong. Not that he wanted there to Orcs about,  
singing or otherwise.

“That is not surprising.” Thorin interjected. “Not that I am saying  
that it was Elves singing, mind you. Only that any Elves living in this  
horrid place would not sound the same as Elves living in Rivendell. Their  
music would be – “ he paused.

Strange and eerie. The words drifted through his brain.

: Hmph! :

But then a rather disturbing thought presented itself to him.

: Old wicked Thranduil’s people. That doesn’t surprise me.  
Perhaps the Burglar is right after all.: But then another thought  
surfaced, much more unsettling. : If he finds out where we are headed and  
why he will want a part of it, that greedy Elf! Probably think it is due  
to him or something. Well, we must avoid that at all costs then! :

“Well, yes,” he finally said. “Strange and eerie. Perhaps it  
is Mirkwood Elves after all.” He snorted suddenly. “And that’s just as  
bad as singing Orcs in my book.”

 

 

“What did he just say?” Tavor bristled.

“I think he said that we are just as bad as singing Orcs.” Brethil  
whispered.

Legolas scowled. He had been impressed that the furry-footed one had  
figured out that it was Elves chasing them with laughter and strange and  
eerie songs. But really!

“I hope my father does find them.” He growled, his eyes following  
them filled with great dislike. “ Just as bad as singing Orcs indeed.”


	4. And Some Flowers For Your Hair

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Hobbit AU. While the Dwarves are imprisoned in Thranduil's dungeons, Bilbo meets Legolas quite by accident. We find out why Elves don't smoke pipeweed.

“You don’t really mean that, do you?” Brethil said quietly, staring  
at Legolas.

“Of course he doesn’t. Do you? Legolas, I thought we all agreed  
that it would be best if your father doesn’t know about the Dwarves.”

Legolas drew a deep breath and sighed.

“I know. I didn’t really mean it. Only – well, I am getting tired  
of being insulted by Dwarves.”

“Well, there is that.” Tavor said with a grin. “It is so much  
better to be insulted by your friends.”

Mirkwood’s prince shot a glance at his friend and then laughed  
lightly.

“Aye. Let’s go. Perhaps we will leave them to their own devices for  
a while. You do remember what tonight is, don’t you?”

Brethil’s brows knit then his eyes brightened.

“Oh, yes! Let’s go! Autumn feasting! You do remember that, don’t  
you, Tavor?”

“Oh, shut up, Brethil. Merrymaking versus Dwarves. Not much of a  
contest really. Though this has been fun.” He grinned and slapped his  
companions on the shoulders. “Well, my fellow singing Orcs let us move on  
to bigger and better things.”

“They…uh, the Dwarves won’t be following us, will they?”

“Brethil, we were following them, not vice versa. Come now. I am  
for merrymaking of every sort. Let us go. Besides they are quite far from  
the clearings and have not once strayed off this path. They’ve probably  
been warned by someone about the fell denizens of Mirkwood.” He contorted  
his face into an ugly mask, sticking his tongue out at Brethil.

“Yes, You are probably right. And it will be good to eat something  
other than dried rations. Let us go.”

He walked arm in arm with Tavor and Legolas, but then he looked back.

“Couldn’t we just give them – “

“No, Brethil!”

“Oh, alright.”

The three soon picked up their pace, laughing and singing headed for  
the clearings.

 

 

“Roast chicken; ham drizzled with honey; mince-pies; tarts; pork  
pie…” Bilbo trudged along the songs forgotten and the food list begun  
again. He felt that this whole adventure was poorly planned and that if  
only they had something to eat - “Seed cakes.” – they would be making out  
so much better. Or something to drink. Just one glass of cool water would  
make all the difference. But there was no water and there was no food.  
“Bothersome Dwarves and their confounded adventures. We will never make it  
out of this forest, let alone all the way to the Lonely Mountain. Why did  
I ever agree to this?” Normally Mr. Baggins was not one to complain, but  
the urge to do so now, and quite loudly, was almost overwhelming.

The Dwarves were complaining quite bitterly and Bombur was  
trudging along just ahead of the Hobbit, moaning about his legs; the packs;  
his empty stomach. (“They really shouldn’t have eaten my share of the food.  
They are so cruel and heartless. They don’t care for me at all.”), his  
tired hot feet; his need to just lie down for a while and sleep; his empty  
stomach. (“They should have left me a scrap of bread. That is the least  
they could have done. But no! They devoured it all. Greedy lot!”), the  
oppressive atmosphere here beneath the never-ending trees. And of course,  
his empty stomach. (“I wonder what oak leaves taste like.”)

Suddenly he stopped, nearly causing Bilbo to stumble over him. He  
flung himself to the ground like a petulant child, his lower lip thrust  
out.

“Go on, if you must. I’m just going to lie here and sleep and dream  
of food, if I can’t get it any other way. I hope I never wake up again.”  
He said, looking up to see if anyone was watching him.

Several of the Dwarves turned to glance at him, but they did nothing  
to persuade him to stand and continue on.

: They do want me to sleep and never wake up. : He thought  
morosely. : Cruel heartless things. To think I thought they were my  
friends when all along – :

Suddenly Balin, who was someway ahead of the others called back to  
them.

“What was that? I thought I saw a twinkle of lights in the forest.”

They all strained their eyes in the direction that Balin indicated  
and –yes – a long way off in the trees they saw a red twinkling and then as  
they watched more appeared, like someone lighting candles all in a row.

They glanced at one another in excitement and hurried off down the  
path.

Bombur climbed to his feet - Bilbo kindly lending him a hand - and  
the two followed after.

The light was in front of them to the left. In the haste of their  
excitement they didn’t even stop to wonder if perhaps it was Trolls or  
Goblins. It seemed that Bert, William, and Tom - the three Trolls that had  
nearly eaten them - were forgotten. When at last they drew level with it,  
they suddenly realized that the light was torches and fires beneath the  
trees. But it was some distance off the path.

Bombur gasped as he pulled up beside them.

“It looks as if my dreams were coming true.” He started to jump  
forward, but Dori grabbed his sleeve.

“A feast would be no good, if we never got back alive from it.”  
Thorin said grimly.

“And both Beorn and Gandalf told us to stay on the path. Not to  
stray from it at all.” Oin piped in. He felt that there were Orcs or  
Goblins out there somewhere, just waiting for them to make one false move  
and then – He shuddered and abruptly cut the thought off.

“But without a feast we shan’t remain alive much longer, anyway.”  
Bombur insisted firmly. They owed him this feast. Yes, they did!

Bilbo found himself nodding in agreement. They did need to eat and  
perhaps it wasn’t that far off the path. Perhaps.

“No!” Thorin said firmly. “And you really have no say in this,  
Bombur, seeing as how you’ve slept through a great deal of this and can’t  
even remember the rest. So be still.” The son of Thrain II had a nasty  
feeling that he knew what those fires meant. And he was not ready – not  
quite yet – to beg food from the Elves.

“I think that Bombur is right. We need food, Thorin. We can’t  
continue on like this.” Bofur said, tugging slightly on his yellow hood.

“I don’t know.” Bifur said. “Gandalf did say to stay on the path.  
Who knows what is out there.”

“Well, I think that a quick death at the hands of a Goblin, Orc, or  
Troll would be preferable to this prolonged starvation.”

“But you heard Beorn –“

“I’m hungry!”

“But Gandalf said –“

The arguments went on for some time getting louder and louder until  
finally someone suggested that they send a couple of spies to find out who  
had made the fires. But then they argued as to who should be sent. And  
the ones chosen always declined.

“Bombur should go. This is mostly his fault anyway.”

“I will not go. I have been through quite enough already.”

“He’d eat all the food before we arrived. We can’t send him.”

“Send Dori. He’s the strongest. He can handle whatever is out  
there.”

“Oh, no, you don’t. I won’t do it.”

“Then perhaps none of us should go. We can’t leave the path.  
Gandalf said –“

“Yes, well, Gandalf isn’t here, is he? He’s probably sitting at a  
nice inn somewhere with a plate full of hot food and a glass of ale,  
smoking away happy as ever. While we stand here and starve.”

“Since it is just like my dreams we should go. There was such  
wondrous food. Let me tell you …”

In the end they all went. No one could resist the temptation of what  
Bombur was telling them.

: I won’t beg food from an Elf. : Thorin told himself sternly. :  
From a Troll, perhaps. But not an Elf. :

As they moved into the forest, Bilbo hesitated. Though his stomach  
told him to move forward quickly, he stood for a moment.

“DON’T LEAVE THE PATH.”

Gandalf’s last words to the little company carried across his brain.

“I am sorry, Gandalf. It would appear we have no choice.” He  
whispered, wondering where the Wizard was and why he kept disappearing on  
them. He picked up one furry foot and moved off the path into the darkness  
beyond.

 

 

Earlier that evening as the clouds cleared away and streaks of gold  
and lavender colored the sky, Legolas, Tavor, and Brethil wandered into a  
clearing in the trees ringed with sawn tree trunks. The first of the  
night’s celebrations would be held here. The grass was still a vibrant  
green, studded with tiny flowers. This was one of the many places filled  
with the magic of the Wood Elves. It was a peaceful place made for  
merriment and laughter, singing and eating. And there would be plenty of  
it all this night. Torches were fastened to the trees in preparation for  
the feast. Several Elves had already gathered here and were talking and  
laughing happily with one another. They were dressed in the comfortable  
browns and greens most of the Wood Elves favored. They turned to greet the  
prince and his friends. Brethil immediately moved to join a small group  
and Legolas sent Tavor after him to keep him quiet.

“Well, nin caun. [my prince] Where have you three been these past  
days?”

Legolas turned to see Mirkwood’s Master Archer standing behind him,  
arms folded over his chest.

Long silver hair fell over the old Elf’s shoulders, his blue  
eyes sharp and bright as a hawk’s. He missed nothing and Legolas felt a  
tremor of apprehension. Perhaps Tavor better come and keep him quiet.

“Maer aduial, Tanglinna.” [Good evening] He said, pressing his hand  
to his heart in greeting.

“Maer aduial, Prince Legolas. Where have you three been these past  
days?”

: I knew that this wasn’t going to be easy. : Legolas thought,  
wondering what to say that would satisfy the Master Archer.

“We were just wandering about. We killed some spiders just east of  
Morn Nen. And – uh – Oh! Yes. We told Tavor about his falling into it  
once. Do you remember that? You should have seen his face when we told  
him.” Legolas laughed lightly. “He was not very pleased to learn of it.  
Of course he denied it at first, but then why would he remember it since –“

Tanglinna cleared his throat and arched one eyebrow.

“You are trying very hard not to tell me something, aren’t you,  
Prince Legolas?”

Legolas swallowed and shook his head, shrugging his shoulders  
helplessly, and looking behind him to where Tavor and Brethil were standing  
a few feet away laughing and talking totally unaware of his great need for  
their help.

“I see.” Tanglinna said smoothly, a smile quirking his lips.  
“Perhaps you fell into Morn Nen this time and you’ve forgotten where you’ve  
been.”

“No. Well…”

Tanglinna shook his head and grinned, slapping his prince on the arm.

“I’m sure it will all come out in time. But for now I have something  
to tell you.”

Relief swept through him. He wasn’t ready for a confrontation just  
yet. He needed time to think of a plausible story if questioned again  
about their activities of the past days.

Tanglinna, following his line of thought quite easily, felt laughter  
bubbling up inside. You won’t be so happy when I tell you what you have  
been instructed to do this night. He took the younger Elf’s arm lightly  
and steered him across the clearing.

“King Thranduil, your lord father, bids you join him for his feast in  
the Gelir Angol Dor. [Merry Magic Place] It is to be a much more formal  
affair than this one.”

At the word formal, Tanglinna noticed the widening of Legolas’ eyes  
and the flicker of anxiety that passed through them. He forbade the laugh  
in his throat to emerge and continued.

“I have brought your clothes with me. Some how your father knew you  
would probably be showing up here today. The king is good and wise.”

“What clothes?” Legolas asked in a small voice.

“Ah, here they are.”

Legolas grimaced. He did not enjoy formal occasions and he did not  
like the clothing that he was required to wear. But his father did enjoy  
the fussiness and formality and insisted that all his offspring bow to his  
whims and wishes.

A long pale green silk robe was laid out on the grass, it’s stiff  
silver collar encrusted with the white gems his father preferred. The  
flowing sleeves were gathered at the wrists where more gems sparkled. A  
silver belt, also studded with gems lay beside it. Fair pale green shoes  
and leggings embroidered with a tracery of silver threads also awaited him.

“Tanglinna, I –“

But the archer stopped him.

“Your father commands it, my prince.” He said with a smirk.

“But Tanglinna, I – “

“You had better dress, your father is expecting you.”

Legolas scowled and took off his weapons. Grumbling he stripped off  
his comfortable hunting leathers and pulled on the ridiculous flowing  
garments.

He turned to see the grand amusement in the Master Archer’s eyes.

“You look most, uh, beautiful, my prince.” He choked out.

“I look like a girl!” Legolas spat in disgust, waving his arms and  
watching the full sleeves billow out. “This is ridiculous. I think father  
just does this to torture me.” He shook his head and turned to leave.

Tanglinna gathered up the weapons and discarded clothing.

“You’re not quite ready, my prince. One more thing is required.”

Legolas turned to look at him.

“What else could this outfit possibly require?”

Tanglinna inclined his head toward a tree nearby. Hanging in its  
branches were delicate wreaths of small green leaves and berries trailing  
strands of white flowers.

“For your hair.” He said, then turned and fled, his delighted  
laughter filling the cool evening air.


	5. Roast Venison and Elf Maidens with Hair of Gold

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Hobbit AU. While the Dwarves are imprisoned in Thranduil's dungeons, Bilbo meets Legolas quite by accident. We find out why Elves don't smoke pipeweed.

“Oh, great Valar! Do you see what I see?”

Brethil turned at Tavor’s words, taking a sip of wine from the silver  
goblet in his hands. When he saw what Tavor was pointing at, his face  
filled with such glee, the young Elf gasped, choking on the wine.

“I don’t believe it.” Tavor continued, laying aside the sweet bread  
he had been eating.

Brethil straightened from his coughing fit and stared across the  
clearing in amazement and delight.

“I will never let him forget this.” Tavor said, folding his arms  
across his chest.

As Legolas stalked out of the trees a hush came over the assembled  
Elves. They were all aware of how much their youngest prince disliked  
dressing for his father’s formal affairs and some of them even felt a  
certain sympathy for him. But the sight of him dressed in flowing pale  
green robes glittering with silver and fair jewels; a wreath of leaves,  
berries and flowers clenched in one fist; and a scowl as formidable as one  
of his father’s was enough to send them into paroxysms of laughter.

Legolas glared at them all, his blue eyes fiery bright and fierce.

“I think we’d better push him into Morn Nen after this night. I am  
certain he will wish to forget it.” Brethil laughed into Tavor’s ear.

His face red and burning with embarrassment and frustration, Legolas  
moved to join his two closest friends.

“Do not say one word to me, either of you. Or you will pay dearly.”

Brethil bit his lips, giggling helplessly and ended up clapping his  
hand over his mouth and turning away. But Tavor merely smirked and raised  
one fair eyebrow.

“What one word would you not have me say? Truly, you look…stunning.  
I must say that I have never seen you looking better. In fact,” he leaned  
back surveying the glowering prince. “If you don’t mind, I think perhaps  
my sister would like to borrow that outfit sometime.”

Legolas bared his teeth and thrust the wreath into Tavor’s chest.

“Don’t talk to me!” He hissed and turned away in a swirl of green  
silk and blonde hair.

Brethil, gasping slightly, turned back to watch him go.

“Uh, Legolas! You forgot your flowers!” He called, snatching the  
wreath from Tavor, whose eyes were sparkling brightly.

“Come on, Brethil.” He said, draining his goblet in one swallow.  
“We’d better go comfort our pouting princess.”

Brethil giggled again and, placing the wreath on his own head,  
followed at Tavor’s heels.

Legolas had seated himself on one of the sawn tree trunks and was  
staring moodily at the area in the center of the clearing. He turned his  
head away slightly as the two came to sit on either side of him.

“Cheer up, Legolas. It could be worse.” Tavor soothed, patting his  
friend’s knee.

Brethil started to laugh again, but a sharp look from his prince made  
him force his mirth down for the moment.

“Yes, Legolas. Tavor is right. It could be worse.” He felt the  
giggles coming on again. “But I don’t know how.” He burst out laughing  
once more, nearly toppling from his seat.

“Ignore him, Legolas. You know how he gets. Really, it is quite a  
nice outfit. And it could indeed be worse. It could be, uh, pink.”

“Pink!” Brethil choked. “It should be blue though. To match your  
eyes.”

Tavor bit back the laughter that surfaced and turned a stern face to  
the young Elf.

“Go fetch him some wine, why don’t you, Brethil. And give him back  
his wreath please.”

Brethil stood then bowed gracefully handing Legolas the wreath. He  
grinned and rushed away.

“Don’t let him bother you, Legolas. You know how he is. And it is a  
good color on you.” Tavor commiserated, leaning back on the seat and  
staring at the sky. It was probably wise to change the subject. It wasn’t  
prudent to tease the prince overmuch. He swallowed a bubble of mirth and  
turned to Legolas. “I saw Tanglinna speaking with you earlier. Does he  
suspect?”

Legolas snorted, fingers caressing the berries and leaves. He could  
feel his bad mood dissipating slowly. He knew he looked ridiculous and he  
also knew that he would have laughed at anyone else dressed this way. And  
probably would before the evening was over. He shrugged, smiling  
slightly.

“Of course he does. He’s like my father. They seem to know  
everything.”

Suddenly a fire leapt up in the center and the torches ignited one by  
one around the clearing. Cheers, singing, laughter and clapping filled the  
clearing. Tavor and Legolas stood, both smiling. No one could be upset in  
this atmosphere for long. The first of the autumn feasts had begun!

 

 

The Dwarves and Bilbo crawled on their hands and knees though the  
dead leaves and moss toward the clearing, which was glowing brightly in the  
night. The sound of laughter drifted to them and soft singing.

“It’s not Orcs and Goblins, is it?” Oin whispered.

“Of course not.” Nori hissed. “Be still! And back up a bit.  
You’re right on top of me!”

Bombur crawled beside Bilbo, smiling happily.

“Oh, Bilbo, do you suppose that they will have pork pie? I don’t  
recall any in my dreams, but I suppose they might. Don’t you think so?”

“I’ll take any kind of pie they care to give me.” Bilbo said.  
“Though it smells like roast venison.”

“Quiet!” Thorin growled. “We are nearly there.”

They crept to the edge of the glade, peering in at the festivities  
from behind the trees that ringed it.

“Elves.” Bilbo breathed and smiled at Bombur who smiled back. “I  
knew it!”

“I am glad that you were right, Bilbo.” Bombur said quietly. He  
found he rather liked the Hobbit. And he remembered that Bilbo hadn’t made  
him carry his pack.

The Dwarves stared hungrily into the clearing and Thorin felt his  
stomach pinch with hunger.

: Dratted Elves. I won’t beg food from an Elf. :

But as the smell of roasting meat reached his nose he felt his  
resolve crumbling. The others glanced at him, their eyes pleading.

“Accursed Elves!” he muttered.

At that moment Brethil happened to turn, his gaze going to the trees  
just beyond the firelight.

“Uh…Legolas? Tavor?”

But the two were laughing and drinking the sweet berry wine, feeling  
quite happy and didn’t hear him. They were admiring Legolas flowing  
sleeves and remarking how the jewels sparkled so fetchingly in the  
firelight.

“Legolas? I think that –“

Suddenly thirteen Dwarves and one Hobbit scrambled from behind the  
trees into the clearing.

“The Dwarves are here!” Brethil hissed.

His two friends spun toward him, their eyes falling on the on the  
small rushing figures. Then they turned to look at one another with  
stricken faces. The huge fire suddenly shot upward like Gandalf’s rockets  
into the night sky in a glimmer of sparks and the torches puffed out one by  
one.

Thorin and Company suddenly found themselves engulfed in total  
darkness.

“What is happening?” Oin cried. “What is happening!”

They all scrambled frantically, falling over the tree trunk seats and  
fallen logs. Their feet became entangled in the growth of ivy and woodbine  
at the tree’s edge.

“Stop!” Thorin commanded them, hearing all the crashing and cries  
about him. “Stop!”

But it was too late. They had run pell-mell back into the  
surrounding trees.

“Stop! You must stop!”

But for some reason they didn’t heed him.

“Dratted Elves! This is all their fault!” And with that Thorin  
headed into the greater darkness.

 

 

The second autumn feast was held in a larger clearing and more Elves  
were in attendance. If possible this one was much merrier and laughter and  
song flowed into the night.

Legolas, Tavor, and Brethil stood in a small knot, the only three  
unaffected by the spirit of mirth and lightness that prevailed this night  
amongst the Mirkwood Elves. They each held silver goblets, but the wine  
inside was untouched.

“I thought you said those Dwarves weren’t following us!” Brethil  
said accusingly, his grey eyes dancing with apprehension.

“They didn’t follow us, Brethil. We are Wood Elves. No one follows  
us unless we want them to.” Tavor stated sternly.

“What about that pack of Wargs out by the western edge? They  
followed us easily enough.”

“The Wargs were different, Brethil. They are much more intelligent  
than Dwarves.” Tavor sniffed, feigning nonchalance though his heart raced  
and his eyes darted about the glade fearing to see Dwarves tumbling into  
this party.

“Be quiet! Both of you!” Legolas hissed. “Tanglinna is watching  
us.”

Brethil, of course, swung his head toward the Master Archer who was  
standing several feet away, his bright eyes on the three young Elves. He  
smiled weakly and waved.

“You are such a Troll, Brethil. I’m sure that he knows we are up to  
nothing at all now. Thank you so much.”

“What? I didn’t do anything, Tavor.” Brethil was feeling very put  
upon. It was hard to be the youngest of this trio at times.

“Just…don’t look at him any more. Alright?” Legolas soothed,  
raising the goblet to his lips. “Why did the Dwarves leave the path? They  
hadn’t up until now.”

Tavor shrugged, his eyes sliding to Tanglinna, who continued to watch  
them. Had he perhaps moved slightly closer?

“They probably heard the laughter.” Legolas said, an uneasy feeling  
filling him. What if they did manage to track them here? What if they  
managed to find his father’s feast? He groaned slightly and gulped the  
rest of the wine down, feeling it buzz pleasantly in his head.

“They probably smelled the food.” Tavor speculated. “They were  
rather hungry. And rather obsessed with food. Especially that furry-  
footed one.”

“I told you we should have given them something to eat!” Brethil  
announced, looking at the two of them in exasperation. “If you had but  
listened to me – “

“Oh, do be quiet, Brethil. There is nothing to be done about it now.  
Hopefully they got so frightened that they scampered back to the path and  
are fleeing down it this very moment.” But his eyes scanned the trees and  
the darkness beyond.

It was sometime later that, after much wine and food, the three began  
to relax. There had been no sign of the Dwarves. Perhaps all would be  
well.

But as Brethil was singing a merry tune his eyes chanced upon a  
movement in the trees. His voice faltered.

“Uh, Legolas? Tavor?”

 

 

Thorin and Company had managed to gather themselves all together at  
last. They were very relieved that none were lost or badly hurt, though  
all were scraped and bruised.

“What are we to do?” Bombur asked.

“What is there to do?” Balin said. “We can’t do anything in this  
darkness. We’ll only get lost again. And none of us wants that.”

“Which way is the path?”

“We should never have gone off the path.”

“Gandalf told us not to leave the path. Beorn warned us, didn’t  
he?”

“Maybe there is some food on the ground here. They left in such a  
hurry, surely they must have dropped something.” Ori piped up. He dropped  
to his knees hands frantically searching the ground for any small scrape of  
sustenance.

“No, Ori! Get up. You will only become lost again.” Thorin was now  
in charge once more. “Everyone must lie down where he is and not move  
until it is his watch or morning comes. Dori, you may take the first  
watch. Alert us if anything happens.”

Everyone reluctantly obeyed, their stomachs aching with hunger made  
much worse by having smelled food earlier.

“Did you see that beautiful Elf maiden dressed all in sparkly green,  
holding a wreath of flowers? Her hair was like spun gold.” Gloin said  
quietly. “I never knew Elves could be so beautiful.”

“Don’t tell me that you are falling for an Elf, Gloin?” Fili  
giggled.

“Don’t be ridiculous!” Gloin pouted. “I merely commented that she  
was quite beautiful. Hmph! A Dwarf falling in love with an Elf. How  
ridiculous! Though it might be wondrous just to have a lock of her hair.”  
He whispered softly to himself.

“Roast venison.” Bombur said quietly. “That is what I smelled.

“Yes. It did smell very good, didn’t it.” Nori agreed, rubbing his  
stomach.

“What else do you suppose they had?” Bifur called softly.

“All sorts of things, I am sure. What do Elves eat anyway?”

“I am certain that I do not know, nor do I care.” Thorin said  
sternly. “But if you don’t all shut up right now, I will eat every last  
one of you!”

“He’s just grumpy because he is hungry.”

“Be quiet!!”

The Dwarves had just settled into silence and drowsiness was stealing  
upon them – it had been a very eventful day after all – when Dori whispered  
loudly:

“The lights are coming out again over there, and there are more than  
ever of them.”

They all leapt immediately to their feet and, sure enough, there were  
lights twinkling like fallen stars; and voices and laughter.

“Oh! Another party! Let’s go!”

“No rushing forward this time! No one is to stir from hiding till I  
say.” Thorin ordered as they crept forward together, each touching the  
back of the one in front of him so as not to loose their way. “I shall  
send Mr. Baggins alone first to talk to them.”

Bilbo squeaked and stumbled.

“They won’t be frightened of him and anyway I hope they won’t do  
anything nasty to him.”

Bilbo was shaking slightly, his fingers toying with his magic ring  
that rested in his pocket.

: Yes. Why would they be frightened of me? But what about me of  
them? :

They peered cautiously into the glade, Gloin’s eyes searching for his  
Elf maiden.

: Ah, there she is! : he thought dreamily, his eyes resting fondly on  
Legolas. : You are a glorious creature. I have seen none fairer. :

Thorin nodded and the Dwarves suddenly pushed Bilbo from behind. But  
before he could slip his ring onto his finger, he stumbled forward, caught  
by surprise by the grand thrust from behind. Out went the lights again and  
complete darkness fell.


	6. The Last Bash

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Hobbit AU. While the Dwarves are imprisoned in Thranduil's dungeons, Bilbo meets Legolas quite by accident. We find out why Elves don't smoke pipeweed.

King Thranduil of Mirkwood Forest gazed serenely over his people  
feeling a swell of love and pride. Beautiful, fair faces shone with joy  
and mirth, long hair twined with flowers gleamed in the fire light; slender  
bodies were wrapped in flowing garments of green, silver, and white with  
green and white gems flashing at throats and slim waists. It was a  
magnificent gathering and their king was the most magnificent of them all.

Wood Elves were not wicked folk as Thorin thought. If they have a  
fault it is a distrust of strangers. Though their magic was strong, they  
were wary. They differed from the High Elves of the West, and were more  
dangerous and less wise. For most of them were descended from the tribes  
of yore that never went to Faerie, or Elvenhome as it is also called, in  
the West. They lingered in the twilight of Middle Earth beneath the Sun  
and Moon, but loved the stars above all; and they wandered in the great  
forests that grew tall in lands that are now lost. They dwelt most often  
by the edges of the woods, from which they could escape at times to hunt,  
or to ride and run over the open lands by moonlight and starlight; and  
after the coming of Men they took ever more and more to the gloaming and  
the dusk. Still Elves they were and remain, and that is Good People.

Their present and greatest King stood tall and straight in his long,  
dark green robes embroidered with silver oak and golden beech leaves.  
Glowing white gems and sparkling emeralds gleamed and flashed at his pale  
throat, his slender wrists and on the sliver belt at his slim waist. Atop  
his long golden locks that waved down his back, was a crown of oak and  
beech leaves worked in gold and silver and enameled in green. Small gems  
flashed as he turned his head, rivaling the stars themselves. At his side  
stood his two eldest sons, looking nearly as wonderful as their father, one  
dressed in silver and one in white, the green gems glittering like green  
stars ; wreaths that matched their youngest brother’s graced their long  
fair locks.

Thranduil smiled at them fondly and they smiled back. He felt a  
thrill of complacent satisfaction. They did not enjoy dressing for these  
occasions, but they knew they had no choice. It irritated them greatly to  
comply with his wishes, but comply they did. And Legolas –

“Where is your brother?” he asked, his eyes scanning the clearing.  
“Why is he not here? I told Tanglinna to send him.”

“He is probably still being coaxed into his clothes.” Aralith said  
quietly with a glance at his brother.

“He is probably trying to figure out how to get out of dressing.”  
Celebross replied wryly, resisting the urge to yank at his tight glittering  
collar.

“He’ll just tell father that he can’t wear it because it makes him  
itch.”

“Hmph. That only ever worked for him. I always got in trouble if I  
said that; even when it was true.”

Thranduil suppressed a smile as their quiet, and they supposed  
private, words reached him.

: And for you Celebross it was always too tight and you couldn’t  
breath. And you Aralith it was always too loose and was going to fall off  
you or trip you. Ah, yes. I know all your little tricks, nin ionnath [my  
sons]; just as my father knew mine. :

But where was Legolas?

There was a stirring on the other side of the clearing and the tinkle  
of feminine laughter. Thranduil knew that his youngest had arrived. He  
thought his son looked very fine that evening and he smiled in approval.  
But the smile soon turned to a frown of foreboding. He saw Legolas look up  
at him, blue eyes filled with sudden trepidation,then look to Tanglinna who  
strode at his side, smirking slightly.

: Now what have you done? : Thranduil thought wearily, resisting the  
urge to raise one hand to his brow and shake his head. : If they’ve let  
black squirrels loose in the palace again, I’ll -:

“Someone looks very guilty.” Aralith said in a singsong voice.

“Hmph. There are Tavor and Brethil. I wonder what those three have  
done now. We’d better check the wine before we drink it. Do you remember  
when they put water from Morn Nen into the wine we sent to Lord Elrond? I  
think father even enjoyed that one. Father is not hard enough on him.” He  
shook his head wondering why Legolas seemed to get away with more than he  
did.

Across the clearing Tanglinna bowed toward Thranduil and slapped  
Legolas’ back.

“You may have managed to avoid telling me what you know of those  
Dwarves, sweet princeling, but I doubt that you can avoid telling your lord  
father, our great King. Though it will be a great amusement for me to  
watch you try.” Tanglinna moved away, still smiling though he hadn’t been  
particularly amused when he had not managed to wrest anything from the  
three younger Elves. Now he merely shrugged and prepared to watch his king  
at work.

Thranduil watched as Legolas glanced hastily at Tavor and Brethil for  
support, and from the gestures, looks, and hurried comments that flew  
between the three he knew that something had happened. He shook his head  
with amusement and slight annoyance and Celebross and Aralith exchanged  
disgusted glances.

“You have to go to him, Legolas. You can’t just – ignore – your  
father.” Tavor said, his usually perfect composure slipping slightly.

“I wasn’t going to ignore him, Tavor. Just…just avoid him. There is  
a difference, you know.”

“No, there’s not. Not to your father. To him they are one and the  
same.” Tavor continued, wondering if what he was beginning to feel was  
panic.

“He’s staring at us!” Brethil squeaked. “He knows! Ai, Valar! He  
knows!”

“Be quiet, Brethil. He doesn’t know. He can’t.” : Can he? : Tavor  
thought desperately, sweat beaded his brow and his heart raced. : Is this  
going to kill me? : he wondered with distress.

Not only Thranduil was staring at them. Several Elves had turned to  
them, many of them Elf maidens whose admiring stares were fixed on Legolas.

Suddenly Tavor’s usual humor tried to resurface.

“Mayhap we should have worn sparkly green clothes, Brethil.”

“What are you talking about, Tavor?” Legolas growled in  
exasperation. Surely now was not the time to discuss his outfit yet again.  
Enough had been said earlier. But then he became aware of the twitters  
and flutterings around him. He turned to see the maidens staring  
unabashedly at him, looking as though they wanted to devour him. He choked  
slightly and glanced at his father, whose eyebrows were raised in question.  
He looked to the maidens and felt a blush rising to his cheeks. He turned  
once more and rushed toward his father.

King Thranduil watched as his son approached, enjoying his discomfort  
as the eyes of the Elven people followed their young prince with amusement  
and admiration.

“He certainly knows how to draw attention to himself.” Aralith said  
to Celebross.

“Aye, he has always been able to do that.” He answered, but the  
brothers laughed lightly, knowing that the attention was seldom wanted.

Legolas bowed to his father, hoping to keep his feelings of unease  
from his face. Brethil’s words – “He knows! Ai, Valar! He knows!” - kept  
running through his brain.

: He can’t know. There is no way he can know. He doesn’t know. :

Thranduil held out his arms and embraced his youngest son. For a  
moment he could feel the rapidly beating heart before he released him. He  
held him out at arms length and studied him. He made a slight adjustment  
to the wreath on his head, straightened some of the flowers that didn’t lay  
just so, then smiled.

Legolas felt a flicker of relief. Perhaps he didn’t know. He  
wouldn’t be smiling if he knew. How silly, of course he didn’t know.

But then the smile turned to a frown.

“Little Greenleaf, what have you done?”

Legolas’ eyes widened in sudden panic. He glanced at his brothers  
who both stared calmly at him, blue eyes shining with wicked glee beneath  
cocked eyebrows.

“I…I…” he gasped, turning to look for Tavor and Brethil. He could  
not stand before his father alone and hope to keep his composure intact.  
But his friends were nowhere to be seen. “Father, I…I don’t know anything  
about those Dwarves. I swear – “

“Dwarves? What Dwarves? What are you speaking of?”

Legolas stared up at him in amazement and confusion.

“What are you speaking of?” he blurted out.

“You have torn you sleeve.” Thranduil said, his eyes moving to the  
tear on one flowing butterfly gossamer sleeve.

Relief washed anew and Legolas held up his arm noticing the rip in  
the delicate fabric for the first time.

“Oh! I…I don’t know how that happened. I am so sorry. I’ll go fix  
it right now!”

He turned hastily thinking he could flee safely away, but Thranduil’s  
hand landed on one shoulder.

“What were you saying about Dwarves, little Greenleaf?”

 

 

“Bilbo!”

“Bilbo Baggins!

“Hobbit! Where are you?”

“You dratted Hobbit!”

“Hi! Hobbit, confusticate you, where are you?”

Bilbo Baggins the Hobbit was missing.

The Dwarves had a much more difficult time getting themselves back  
together after the fires had gone out. With much stumbling and calling and  
grabbing things in the dark they finally managed to find one another,  
everyone except for the Hobbit. They called cajolingly and threateningly,  
but nothing worked. There was not a sound in the forest, but the echo of  
their own voices.

“Where could he be?”

“You don’t suppose the Elves took him?”

“Why would the Elves take him, Oin?”

“If they didn’t take him, then where is he?”

“I don’t know – Ouch! Get off my foot!”

“We’ll never find him. Poor Bilbo. Lost in Mirkwood forever.”

“Oh, do be quiet, Bombur.”

“We never will find him in this dark. Dratted Elves. This is  
entirely their fault. They will pay for making us lose our Burglar.”  
Thorin muttered.

“Oof!” Dori fell heavily to the ground. “What? Hey, it’s Bilbo!”

He had indeed stumbled over the Hobbit in the dark, thinking at first  
that he was a fallen log.

“He’s asleep!” Dori exclaimed, kneeling beside Bilbo and shaking him  
gently. “I can’t get him to wake up!”

The Dwarves homed in on Dori’s voice and gathered around poking and  
prodding the Hobbit, trying to awaken him.

“I was having such a lovely dream,” the Hobbit grumbled as he blinked  
his eyes and yawned. “I was having a most gorgeous dinner.”

“Good heavens! He has gone like Bombur.” Dwalin exclaimed.

“We’re not anywhere near that black stream, are we?” Oin squeaked,  
expecting the eerie laughter and singing to begin at any moment now.

“Be quiet, Oin. You are really starting to irritate me.”

“That’s alright, Oin.” Gloin said quietly, patting the other’s  
shoulder, or he thought it was Oin’s shoulder. “Did you by any chance see  
the Elven maiden I spoke of earlier?”

“I think Gloin is the one dreaming.” Kili giggled.

“Tell us what you dreamed, Bilbo.” Bombur prompted eagerly.

“Don’t tell us about dreams,” Thorin said hastily. “Dream-dinners  
aren’t any good, and we can’t share them.”

“They are the best I am likely to get in this beastly place.” Bilbo  
muttered, as the Dwarves lay down for the night once again. The Hobbit  
grumbled to himself and tried to get comfortable on the ground and find his  
dreams once more. “Roasted venison, hot bread and butter, crisp apples…”

It was much later that night when Kili roused them.

“There’s a regular blaze of light begun not far away – hundreds of  
torches and many fires must have been lit suddenly by magic. And hark to  
the singing and the harps!”

At first no one moved, they merely lay where they were listening to  
the enchanting music that softly floated on the cool night air.

“Are we going to try again?” Oin asked, hoping that they weren’t.

“Well, I don’t know if we should. Look at what has happened already.  
This time we might loose everyone.” Bofur said wisely.

“Don’t be ridiculous. It must be near morning. Isn’t it?” Bifur  
said, gazing at the stars overhead.

In the end it was decided that three was the charm and they got up  
and crept into the trees once more.

: This cannot be happening. : Bilbo thought as he trudged behind the  
others. : They will not be pushing me into the middle of it this  
time. Though the dream was rather nice. :

They huddled behind the trees and stared into this glade. This feast  
was much grander and much more magnificent than the others had been and  
they stared in wonder at what they saw. The Dwarves stared at the food  
and sighed happily. Gloin stared at his Elven maid and sighed happily.  
They would never see anything like it again.


	7. Spiders and a Shrieking Blonde Beast

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Hobbit AU. While the Dwarves are imprisoned in Thranduil's dungeons, Bilbo meets Legolas quite by accident. We find out why Elves don't smoke pipeweed.

There were many things that could have flickered through Legolas’  
brain at that moment when his father’s warm hand came to rest on his  
shoulder. He could have remembered the time that he, Tavor, and Brethil  
had brought home a baby spider thinking it would make a very fine pet some  
day; or the time they had set off one of Mithrandir’s fireworks inside the  
palace; or loosed about twenty black squirrels in the throne room for  
Thranduil’s birthday because, they swore, they had taught them a very nice  
trick ‘specially for the King; or the wine bottles sent to Lord Elrond  
laced liberally with water from Morn Nen. Or any of the dozens of things  
they had gotten themselves into over the years. Usually Thranduil had  
found their escapades somewhat amusing, especially the enchanted wine, but  
this one was somewhat different than those rather harmless incidents. This  
one involved Dwarves after all.

“Dwarves?” He managed to say at last, his eyes wide with feigned  
innocence. “I don’t think I said anything about Dwarves, father. You…you  
must be…uh…mistaken.” The last word was a whisper, barely croaked out  
passed the tightening in his throat.

Aralith couldn’t stop the snicker from passing his own lips. He  
cleared his throat to cover it, but Thranduil hadn’t heard.

“I must be what?” he said to his youngest son quietly. “I don’t  
believe that I heard you correctly.”

Legolas swallowed, knowing that his words could not have been more  
poorly chosen.

: Where are Tavor and Brethil? : he thought feeling panic rising. :  
How could they leave me alone now! :

“Look at me, little Greenleaf. And tell me what you said.”

Legolas lifted his eyes to his formidable father. The blue eyes  
weren’t sparkling with amusement now. He glanced at his brothers and saw  
enjoyment on their faces. He scowled at them.

Tanglinna, who had moved nearer to them, positioning himself so he  
could see both Thranduil’s and Legolas’ faces, grinned widely. At that  
moment they looked very similar.

Suddenly two Dwarves burst into the clearing, dancing and jigging  
about. The Elves burst into peals of melodious laughter. Legolas turned,  
fearing that once again the Dwarves had found them. But then he realized  
what it was and he nearly fell to his knees in relief.

“Are these your Dwarves?” Thranduil asked with a smile.

His son merely nodded, knowing he had no voice at that moment to  
speak. A wide grin spread across his face as he watched Tavor and Brethil  
caper about the clearing; singing in gruff voices about stone and axes;  
long strings of moss and flowering vines dangling from their hair and  
chins. It seemed that Dwarves had indeed invaded their festivities again.

 

 

“What do those Elves think they are doing?” Ori asked.

“I think they are making fun of us.” Dori said, feeling his beard  
bristle with anger.

“Why would they do that?” Bifur wondered.

“I don’t know, but it is not very nice of them.” Bofur countered,  
his fists clenching.

“Elves aren’t very nice.”

“But look at the beautiful maiden! She is smiling. Have you ever  
seen anything so radiant, so –“

“Shut up, Gloin!” several voices hissed.

Bilbo didn’t say anything as he found it rather amusing himself. He  
was glad of the dark so they wouldn’t see his smile.

: Silly Dwarves. They take themselves much too seriously. : he  
thought, stifling a giggle when the two “Dwarves” ran into one another and  
fell to the ground, kicking their feet in the air.

The other Elves laughed and applauded, raising their goblets in  
appreciation.

Tavor and Brethil stood and bowed gracefully. They looked to Legolas  
who smiled at them, applauding loudest of all. They grinned through the  
moss and vines on their faces.

Thranduil laughed and reached for a wine goblet. He raised it in a  
toast.

“To the Dwarves. We thank you for livening our party. You are  
welcome to come anytime you wish.”

The Elves raised their goblets.

“To the Dwarves!”

Tanglinna handed a goblet to Legolas, his blue eyes boring into the  
young prince.

“To the Dwarves.” He said. He had to hand it to the three of them,  
they had managed to avoid telling the king as well. He shook his head. “I  
only hope nothing comes of this.” he muttered softly.

Behind the ring of trees the Dwarves looked to Thorin.

“You heard them.” He growled. “We are welcome anytime we wish.”

And with that Thorin Oakenshield stepped into the clearing.

 

 

: Oh, no! : Bilbo thought. : Here we go again! :

Silence descended on the clearing, the laughter cut off instantly and  
Bilbo had barely registered the shock and surprise on the fair Elven faces  
when all the fires leapt up in thick, black choking smoke; ashes and  
cinders flying.

Bilbo found himself running about, just why he wasn’t certain,  
calling to the Dwarves. All about him was the sound of people he could not  
see or feel also calling the Dwarves’ names and occasionally his own. But  
soon the cries of the others came from farther and farther away and to him  
it seemed that the yells and cries changed to ones of fear.

“Help! Help!”

“Oh, no! What is that?!”

“Help!”

And then, even more frightening, the noises died away all together,  
leaving the Hobbit alone in the complete silence and darkness.

“What am I to do now?” he said aloud, though the sound of his voice  
seemed so loud that it echoed from the trees. He thought of running after  
them, but knew that he would only become more confused and lost than he was  
already.

: This is no good. : he thought. : What is the point of running  
about when I can’t see anything. Bothersome Dwarves! What have they  
gotten themselves into now? Where have they gone? Did the Elves take  
them? Confusticate them! Whatever that means.”

He settled down against a tree with his legs stretched before him.  
His thoughts turned to his home, which had never seemed so far away.

: What wouldn’t I give to be in my comfortable hole right now.  
Sitting by the fire with a full pipe; the kettle singing; and a tray piled  
with food. :

Since it was nearing breakfast the morning food litany began.

“Bacon and eggs; toast and butter…”

It was then that he felt something touch him. It felt like a long  
sticky string against his left hand and when he tried to move he found his  
legs were wrapped in the same sticky substance, so that when he managed to  
get to his feet he promptly fell over.

“What is going on?” he gasped in surprise.

He heard a noise behind him and rolled around to see who or what was  
coming toward him.

“Good heavens!” He said.

Coming toward him was a spider, not like the little ones that lived  
in the top of the great oak, but a very large one. He could see its many  
eyes glowing and feel the long hairy legs as it wrapped its sticky threads  
round and round him.

He beat at the creature with his hands, while it darted at him,  
trying to poison him wishing to keep him still as it went about it business  
of wrapping him up.

Suddenly, as Bilbo felt something dig into his hip as he rolled onto  
his side, he remembered his little sword and he quickly drew it.

The spider, upon hearing the ring of steel, jumped back. It was a  
young spider and though it had never had an encounter with any of the  
glowing beings that lived in this wood that slew its kind, he had been  
warned. But this little bit of a thing didn’t glow.

As it hesitated, Bilbo sliced his legs free and rushed toward it  
striking it in the eyes.

The spider shrieked with pain and fury, dancing and leaping about,  
flinging its long legs, until Bilbo felled it with another sure stroke.  
Then the Hobbit fell to the ground and remembered no more for a long while.

It was daylight when he awoke, the usual dim filtered light that he  
was getting used to filled the space beneath the trees. The spider lay  
dead beside him and his Elven dagger was black with its blood. A great  
swell of pride and fierceness filled him. Mr. Bilbo Baggins of Hobbiton in  
the Shire had killed a Giant Spider of Mirkwood all by himself! He had no  
help from Wizards, Dwarves or Wood Elves. Nor anyone else. He was a  
different person than the one running about in confusion the night before.  
He wiped his sword on the grass and slid it into the sheath with a  
satisfying snick.

“I will give you a name.” he said to it, his hand caressing the  
hilt. “I shall call you Sting.”

 

 

“It looks as though there were more than two Dwarves in attendance  
this evening, princeling.” A voice whispered in Legolas’ ear. He turned  
to see the Master Archer staring at him, one eyebrow cocked.

“Yes, little Greenleaf. Is there something you need to tell me?” A  
voice at his other side said. And he turned his head to see his father  
standing there, his arms folded over his chest.

: I am dreaming. : he told himself, hurried looking away from them.  
: I fell out of our boat into Morn Nen and then fell asleep. This cannot  
be real…It is a nightmare. :

When the prince said nothing, but stared dazedly into the distance,  
Tanglinna turned to his king.

“This is the third time this night that this has transpired, your  
Majesty.” He saw Legolas twitch slightly as he said this, but the younger  
Elf still didn’t speak, though his lips moved soundlessly.

“Third time? What is this? Legolas, you had better begin speaking  
to me of what you know immediately.” Thranduil gently gripped his son’s  
chin and turned his head so their eyes met.

“I am dreaming.” Legolas said. “Truly I am dreaming because this  
cannot be happening. Why aren’t Tavor and Brethil waking me up? I don’t  
like this dream.”

Thranduil scowled down at him.

“I assure you, little Greenleaf, that you are not dreaming. Though I  
assure that you will indeed wish that you are if you don’t-“ He turned to  
Tanglinna. “Find Tavor and Brethil. We will get to the bottom of this.”

Aralith and Celebross watched with much amusement. Finally something  
that their father couldn’t laugh away.

All about this clearing, that the Wood Elves had been transported to,  
fair soft voices spoke to one another in hushed tones. Wonder and  
confusion filled the air. They would look to their king on occasion, but  
from the frown on his face they knew it would not be safe to approach him.

Tavor and Brethil were speaking hurriedly to one another when they  
suddenly became aware that they were not alone. They spun to find  
Tanglinna standing behind them.

“You were saying, my young friends?” He said, then suddenly he  
reached out and grabbed them both by the shoulder and marched them to the  
king.

“I might have known.” They heard someone say. “What have they done  
now?”

“Oh, no.” Brethil moaned, his eyes huge with fright. “I can’t do  
this, Tavor. You know I can’t.”

“Be quiet, Brethil. We…we have done nothing wrong.” Tavor said,  
feeling the strange sensation of panic welling in him once more.

“Oh, look! What is wrong with Legolas? He looks so strange! What  
did they do to him? What are they going to do to us!”

“Silly young scamp!” Tanglinna scolded. “Nothing has been done to  
anyone. Yet.” He shoved them forward, watching as they at least had the  
presence of mind to bow.

Thranduil turned the full power of his stare on the two young Elves,  
who wouldn’t meet his gaze. This was truly growing tiresome. He shook his  
head and addressed the one most likely to talk.

“Brethil. Explain yourself.”

Legolas glanced at Tavor, who paled and wiped sweat from his brow.

“Not Brethil.” The prince breathed. “Not Brethil.”

The young Elf swallowed and looked up at his king. He opened his  
mouth, then glanced at his two friends, who stared pleadingly at him. He  
swallowed and opened his mouth again.

“You will tell me now, Brethil.”

“I…We…That is…”

Legolas shook his head almost imperceptible, but Thranduil rounded on  
him.

“You had your chance, little Greenleaf. Now it is Brethil’s. You  
will not move until I am finished with your friend. You were saying,  
Brethil.”

“I…I…Your Majesty, I am so sorry! They stole our boat from Morn Nen  
and we sang to them and they ran, but then – oh, if only we had fed them –“

“Hold, Brethil.” Thranduil said, grabbing the youngster by the arm.  
“Start at the beginning. Why were you at Morn Nen?”

Legolas’ eyes widened and Tavor gulped noisily.

“We…uh…” Brethil glanced nervously from Legolas to Tavor, but knew  
he would receive no help when he saw their stricken faces, so he plunged  
ahead. “We were getting water from Morn Nen to put in Aralith’s wine. I  
am so sorry!” He was nearly sobbing with fear, that Thranduil almost felt  
pity for him. Almost.

‘What?!” Aralith squeaked. “Why you–“ He glared at Legolas.

“Silence, nin ion. [my son] Brethil, why were you going to put water  
from Morn Nen in Aralith’s wine?” Even though he spoke to Brethil, his  
eyes bored into his youngest son’s profile.

“Oh, your Majesty.” Brethil continued, words gushing forth like  
water from a burst dam. “I am so sorry! We were getting the water  
because we wanted him to forget that we had taken your necklace to put on  
the spider we had caught and he saw us, but he’s told you already and now  
we are in so much trouble. Oh, why did I let you talk me into this?” He  
looked accusingly at his two friends. “We always get caught and Aralith’s  
run to your father already –“

“No, Brethil. I haven’t told him yet.” Aralith smirked, feeling  
vindicated. “I guess I don’t have to now.”

Legolas felt his heart drop to his feet as his father rounded on him  
once more.

“What necklace?” Thranduil asked quietly.

Legolas swallowed. Unlike Brethil his voice seemed trapped somewhere  
in the vicinity of his stomach.

“It…it…”

“It was the one with the large white gem and all the little green  
ones set in silver.” Brethil interrupted. “You know, your Majesty. One  
of the ones you didn’t want to pay the Dwarves for making. And we dropped  
it into Morn Nen and we tried to get it back, but – oh – we couldn’t.”

Thranduil’s face reddened and Tavor made a small noise and backed  
away, hand over his mouth. He would have fled if Tanglinna’s hand hadn’t  
tangled on his tunic.

Brethil kept muttering “I am so sorry. I am so sorry.” Over and  
over into his hands, which covered his face.

Legolas stared into the distance.

“Oh no. Oh no. Oh no.”

“WHAT!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!”

Far away the spiders quaked as they hastily wrapped their recently  
caught dinner, and their dinner quaked wondering if perhaps this wasn’t  
such a bad way to die after all if only to escape whatever had made that  
particular shriek. And Bilbo Baggins, lying against a tree, newly passed  
out from his battle with a spider, moaned and dreamed of large fierce  
beasts with dripping fangs and long blonde hair.


	8. Slaying Spiders and Retaliation

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Hobbit AU. While the Dwarves are imprisoned in Thranduil's dungeons, Bilbo meets Legolas quite by accident. We find out why Elves don't smoke pipeweed.

Bilbo stared at the trees about him. They were mainly oaks and  
beeches and would have been considered quite fair but for his experiences  
since entering this forest. Mirkwood seemed a dark, grim place, a place  
into which the Dwarves had disappeared, crying for help. He knew he  
couldn’t shout for them, which would only draw unwanted attention. He  
paused beneath a towering oak wondering in which direction the path lay and  
what direction he should go first in his attempt to locate the Dwarves.

“O! Why did we not remember Beorn’s advice, and Gandalf’s! What a  
mess we are in now! We! I only wish it was we: it is horrible being all  
alone.” He said quietly, gazing about him for some sign of the dwarves.  
In the end he slipped on his ring, made a good guess at the direction from  
which the cries of the Dwarves had come in the night. And because he was  
born a rather lucky Hobbit he guessed rightly – more or less.

He moved silently through the trees, for Hobbits at need can move  
more quietly even than Wood Elves, when he noticed a place of darker  
shadows ahead. As he drew closer he saw why.

The place of darkness was made by spider-webs all tangled, matted and  
crossing over one another again and again. And then he saw the spiders:  
horrible and loathsome, too many of them. They were squatting in the  
branches above him.

He trembled with fear and disgust and hoped that they could not see  
him. He turned his ring on his finger, as if to assure him that it was  
indeed there. Then something chilled him even more: the spiders were  
speaking to one another in creaky, hissing voices and they were talking  
about the Dwarves – his Dwarves!

“It was a sharp struggle, but worth it. What nasty thick skins they  
have to be sure, but I’ll wager there is good juice inside.”

“Juicy! Juicy!” A young one squeaked.

“Aye, they’ll make fine eating when they’ve hung a bit.” Another  
announced.

“Fine eating! Fine eating!”

“Don’t hang ‘em too long. They’re not as fat as they might be.” A  
third adult commented. “Been feeding none too well of late, I should  
guess.”

Bilbo shuddered, sharply reminded of the three Troll’s discussion on  
how to eat the Dwarves. He wondered if Gandalf would show up to save them  
this time. Somehow he doubted it.

“Kill ‘em I say.” Another hissed. “Kill ‘em now and hang ‘em dead  
for a while.”

“They’re dead now, I’ll warrant.” The first said.

“That they are not. I saw one a-struggling just now. Just coming  
round again, I should say, after a bee-autiful sleep. I’ll show you.”

One of the fat spiders ran along a sticky rope till it came to a  
high, thick branch with a dozen bundles hanging from it in a neat row.

: Oh no! : Bilbo thought as he stared up, seeing a Dwarvish foot  
sticking out here and there. Or the tip of a nose, a beard, or the end of  
a hood.

The spider went to the fattest bundle.

: Poor Bombur, I’ll bet. : Bilbo thought and watched with growing  
horror as the spider nipped at the protruding nose. A muffled yelp was  
heard and a toe shot up and kicked the spider hard. The spider hissed and  
fell from the branch, catching itself by a thread just before it hit the  
ground.

The others laughed at it.

“You were quite right, the meat’s alive and kicking!”

“I’ll soon put an end to that.” The spider hissed and started to  
climb toward Bombur once more.

: Oh, no! : Bilbo thought. : What am I to do? : He stared up at  
the spiders knowing that it was impossible for him to climb up to them.  
And what could he do clinging helplessly to a branch? He glanced about and  
saw many stones lying in what appeared to be a now dry stream. Bilbo was a  
fair shot and soon had a nice egg-shaped stone that suited his purpose.  
Bilbo was quite good at throwing with great accuracy. He had practiced  
throwing stones at things from the time he was a boy, stemming from the  
time that a carelessly thrown stone had broken out a window of his father  
and mother’s house. He was now a rather deadly shot. The spider reached  
for Bombur and Bilbo threw. The stone struck the spider squarely on the  
head and it fell to the ground stunned, all its legs curled up.

More stones flew and the spider colony grew greatly agitated. They  
could not see what was throwing the stones, but they could guess what  
direction they came from. They began their lightning fast descent,  
flinging strings in all directions.

Bilbo soon slipped silently to another place, leading the spiders  
further and further away from the Dwarves. When a group fifty had gone off  
to a place where he had stood, he threw more stones at them, and at others  
that had stopped behind. They were angry and excited, hissing violently at  
one another. Bilbo laughed quietly, suddenly remembering the Elves singing  
to the Dwarves, frightening them. So he sang to the spiders:

Old fat spider spinning in a tree!

Old fat spider can’t see me!

Attercop! Attercop!

Won’t you stop,

Stop your strutting and look for me?

Old Tomnoddy, all big body,

Old Tomnoddy can’t spy me!

Attercop! Attercop!

Down you drop!

You’ll never catch me up your tree!

Soon all the spiders were after him. They obviously didn’t like his  
song. They swung down from the branches, casting strings over the open  
spaces as they went.

Bilbo moved to a new place, but the spiders had moved about their  
home and were fencing him in, spinning their strings between the trees as  
quickly as they could. Standing in the middle of the spiders he sang one  
more song.

“Lazy Lob and crazy Cob

are weaving webs to wind me.

I am far more sweet than other meat,

But still they cannot find me!

Here am I , naughty little fly;

you are fat and lazy.

You cannot trap me, though you try,

in my cobwebs crazy.”

Then Mr. Baggins turned and pulled out Sting, he slashed through the  
last space between two tall trees with only a thin webbing between them.  
The spiders saw the sword, though they didn’t know what it was and all  
rushed after the Hobbit, hairy legs waving, eyes popping, full of rage. He  
lead them a merry chase into the forest until he dared go no further for  
fear of becoming lost and never finding the Dwarves again. He hid behind a  
tree and watched as the spiders rushed past, then quiet as a mouse he crept  
back to rescue the Dwarves.

He climbed up one of the spiders’ sticky ropes, thinking of how to  
free the Dwarves. But at the top he met an old, slow, wicked fat spider  
that had stayed to guard the dinners and had been pinching them to see  
which was juiciest. But before it realized that it had company, Sting  
flashed and the spider rolled off the branch dead. Bilbo smiled with  
satisfaction, slipped off his ring, and began to free his friends.

 

 

Before Bilbo had even begun his morning adventure, three young Elves  
of Mirkwood stood shaking before their very irate king. Thranduil glared  
down at them, breathing harshly as he sought some sort of control over his  
anger before he had them all pitched into Morn Nen headfirst.

“You wanted my necklace for a spider.” he said, through clenched  
teeth. “A spider!”

“We…we thought, your Majesty,” Brethil began. “that perhaps if  
pushed the spider into Morn Nen it would fall asleep and then we could put  
the necklace on it. Because it might forget that it was a spider. And it  
would make a wonderful pet. But…well…” He gazed at Tavor and Legolas for  
support. “Legolas overbalanced and - nearly fell in, but the necklace  
went in instead and the spider floated away and –“

“Brethil, be quiet!” Legolas moaned.

The people of Mirkwood stared at their king and thanked Elbereth that  
they weren’t the ones standing before him. The three young Elves were  
constantly doing things that brought them to Thranduil’s attention, but  
they had not seen him this upset with them before. They had heard quite  
clearly about the spider and the necklace. But, they wondered, what had  
this to do with the Dwarves. They shifted uneasily and waited.

Thranduil looked over at Tanglinna, who hastily rid his face of the  
wide – inappropriate – grin.

“Tanglinna, escort them back to Gladaran Thamas. And make certain  
there are no – mishaps – on the way.”

“Yes, your Majesty.” Tanglinna moved to gather the bag with Legolas’  
clothing in it and waited for the three to follow him.

Brethil stood with his head down and Tavor’s usual smirk was absent.  
The three needed to have their impetuosity curbed at times, but the Master  
Archer felt a stab of pity for them. And it amused him that the three  
still chased after spiders for fun.

“Father, I – “

“Go, Legolas. I will deal with you later.”

Legolas sighed, and bowed gracefully. Then he turned to join the  
others.

“Let’s go.” Tanglinna said, hoping his voice didn’t betray his  
uncharacteristic sympathy.

Thranduil watched them go, scowling fiercely. Celebross and Aralith  
even felt a pang of regret for their brother.

“I really wasn’t going to tell.” Aralith whispered. “I thought it  
was rather funny.”

“It doesn’t matter now. Brethil told everything he knows.”

“He always does. That’s why father always goes after him like a hawk  
after a rabbit.”

Thranduil turned to them, effectively halting their conversation.

“Return home.” He said, including not only his sons, but the others  
as well. “This night’s festivities are over.”

The Wood Elves quietly vanished into the dark trees. Aralith and  
Celebross exchanged glances and moved away from their father.

“I don’t think they’ll get out of this one so easily. I almost feel  
sorry for them.”

Thranduil remained in the empty clearing, staring at nothing. His  
beautiful necklace was lost in Morn Nen.

“One of the ones you didn’t want to pay the Dwarves for making.”

Brethil’s words rang in his head. There had been wars with the  
Dwarves in the past and accusations had run high on both sides.

:I paid them what was owed them. : he thought, frowning.

But it angered him to hear the old argument, especially from the lips  
of one of his own subjects.

“I don’t owe the Dwarves anything.” He stated aloud, striding out of  
the clearing, green robes billowing about him. “And why are there Dwarves  
in Mirkwood anyway? Up to no good. I will get to the bottom of this.  
They had better not be here to rob us.” He walked for a time in silence  
and then growled again. “I don’t owe them anything.”

 

 

“I am so sorry.” Brethil said as the three trudged ahead of  
Tanglinna.

“I think you’ve said that quite enough for one night.” Tavor replied  
dispiritedly. He glanced at Legolas who was walking silently at his side.

“What do you think he will do?” Brethil asked.

“I don’t want to think about it.” Tavor answered. “Why did you have  
to tell him everything, Brethil. He might not have noticed that particular  
necklace was missing for quite sometime.”

“I don’t know.” The young Elf sighed, shaking his head and tugging  
on one long, blonde braid. “I just couldn’t seem to stop.”

“You never can. That is why he pounces on you. You need to learn to  
use more discretion like Legolas and I.”

Tanglinna snorted behind them.

“Someone wasn’t being very discreet when he mentioned the Dwarves  
earlier.”

“You see, Tavor. No one can stand before the king and keep his  
composure. Not even his own son. If he can’t, then what possible chance  
do I have?”

“None.” Tavor and Tanglinna said together. The two glanced at one  
another and almost smiled.

Legolas was silent as they walked and a scowl graced his face beneath  
his rather askew wreath.

: He’s taking this rather hard, poor princeling. : Tanglinna  
thought. : Usually he manages to laugh it off. :

Tavor had noticed the unusual silence as well.

“Legolas, he won’t do anything too…uh…too horrible to us.” he said.  
: I hope he doesn’t do anything horrible to us. : he thought, with a  
slight shudder.

“I wonder where our spider is.” Legolas said quietly.

“What?” Tavor gazed over at him in amazement. “Our spider?”

“The poor thing looked rather scared when it floated away. I wonder  
where it came ashore.”

Tanglinna halted in his tracks and stared at him.

“Your father is ready to take your head off for losing his valuable  
necklace and all you can think about is that silly spider?”

“It was a very nice spider. I think it would have become quite  
tame.”

“You never cease to amaze me, young princeling. Are you so cocky  
that you think nothing will happen to you over this?”

“It’s not just the spider. Our boat is gone, too. It was a  
particularly nice boat.” He sighed and shook his head.

“What of the necklace, my prince? Perhaps you could escape the  
king’s wrath over the Dwarves, but not over this.”

“If only it hadn’t fallen into Morn Nen. Any where else and we could  
have recovered it.” Brethil breathed sorrowfully.

“I don’t see what all this fuss is about.” Legolas said, he took his  
bag of clothing from Tanglinna. “It was only a necklace. He has lots of  
them.” Slowly he moved ahead of others. “It made him forget the Dwarves  
for a time at least. And Brethil, why did you tell father that I  
overbalanced. I know you tried to push me in.”

Brethil gasped.

“I…Well…Yes. But it was Tavor’s idea.”

“I know.”

“Legolas, really. This is not the time to think of that.” Tavor  
commented. “There are more serious things to think on.” : Like what is  
going to happen to us. :

“What? Do you fear I will retaliate?”

“Hmph. You always find a way to retaliate.”

“I know. Do you suppose that you have been paid back in full yet?”

“What are you talking about?”

“I mean, poor Brethil telling father everything that he knows. Or  
thinks he knows - as he always does. Shaking like a leaf in the wind.  
Father loosing his temper at us over a necklace lost in Morn Nen. And you  
\- looking like you were about to faint on the spot. Is that retaliation  
enough?”

Tavor’s face reddened, fists clenching.

“What are you talking about, Legolas?” he growled.

Grinning wickedly, he turned and pulled the necklace from his bag  
where it had been tucked inside his hunting tunic.

“What?! Where did you get that?! Legolas! You’ve had it the whole  
time?!”

He shrugged.

“I only told you that I dropped it because you tried to push me in.”

“But…But…how did you know Brethil would tell your father about it?  
Why did you stand there and let him yell at us in front of everyone!”

“I know. Revenge is quite a wonderful thing, don’t you think.” He  
shrugged. “Brethil always tells everything.”

“I do not!” Brethil spluttered. “Well…I try not to, but –“ He glanced at  
the amused face before him. Then he shook his head, relief washing over  
him. The necklace wasn’t lost. Thranduil wasn’t going to punish them. He  
laughed.

“Really, you should thank me.” Legolas continued, staring at Tavor who  
was not so forgiving.

“Thank you! I should strangle you!”

“Father didn’t get angry about the Dwarves, did he? Now he’ll  
probably forget them.”

Tavor stared at him with his mouth open, for once not certain what to  
say.

Then the sound of muffled laughter caused them to turn. Tanglinna  
was bent over, shaking with mirth.

“That one is worthy of your father, princeling.” He stood, eyes  
sparkling. “And just for that I will help you catch another spider.”


	9. The Elf King and Thorin and Slain Spiders for Little Pip

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Hobbit AU. While the Dwarves are imprisoned in Thranduil's dungeons, Bilbo meets Legolas quite by accident. We find out why Elves don't smoke pipeweed.

Thranduil stared at the necklace in his hands, studying the way the  
white gems glowed in their intricate silver settings, the small green  
stones flashing emerald fire. He recalled the light in his youngest son’s  
blue eyes, so at odds with the contrite look on his face when he had  
brought it to him.

“Unbelievable.” he whispered, turning it this way and that. “To  
think he had it the entire time. That young trickster! Letting me scream  
at them in front of everyone. Making me frighten Tavor and Brethil half to  
death – though if any deserve that it is they. And he looking so  
apprehensive himself.” He shook his head remembering with minor chagrin  
the way he had reacted to the news of his lost necklace. “Not my best  
moment.”

He stood and moved to place the necklace in its box of oak and  
silver, gems glittering darkly on the lid. He liked the way the piece  
looked spread on the green velvet. He snorted slightly and closed the box,  
locking it. He didn’t usually have to lock things up, but he was taking no  
chances.

“Ah, little Greenleaf. What is to be done about this?” He strode  
across the room and down the corridor. As he neared on of the palace’s  
many exits, he heard voices. Smiling he crept to the door and saw Legolas,  
Tavor and Brethil laughing together, eating. He raised one eyebrow. “It  
seems you three enjoyed that little joke.” He said, quietly, watching as  
Legolas mimed his father’s outrage. “Well, we shall see what can be done  
about this.”

Legolas had changed into his normal clothing of soft leather in muted  
greens and browns and Thranduil wondered where he had hidden the beautiful  
robes that he had worn the night before. He suspected that no one would  
ever see them again. Probably some spider was making a nest with it right  
now. A slow smile spread over the king’s handsome face. He laughed  
slightly and turned away.

“Please send for Ceredirhammad.” He told the first servant he saw.  
“I need to see her immediately.” And delighted with his own thoughts of  
retaliation, he walked briskly down the hallway, singing lightly.

 

 

Bilbo had never had to think and act so quickly in all of his life.  
He had managed to free some of the Dwarves and poor old Bombur, weakened  
by being pinched and poked so much tumbled right off the branch to the  
ground. The spiders were returning and they did not look happy. Bilbo  
moved to fend them off as the Dwarves worked to free the remaining five.

“Now we see you, you nasty little creature.” The spiders hissed at  
Bilbo. “We will eat you and leave your bones and skin hanging on a tree.  
Ugh! He’s got a sting has he? Well. We’ll get him all the same, and then  
we’ll hang him head downwards for a day or two.”

Bilbo hoped that they could somehow manage to escape, though the ease  
they seemed to have been captured with the night before didn’t give him  
much hope. He glanced down to see some of the spiders gathered about  
Bombur. They had tied him up once more and were dragging him away, his  
protests muffled and feeble. The little Hobbit gave a grand shout, one to  
nearly rival Thranduil’s and leapt at the spiders in front of him. They  
gave way at this unexpected show of bravado and he scrambled for the  
branches, only to fall out of the tree into the middle of the ones on the  
ground. And then Sting did indeed earn its new name! It darted all about,  
killing at least six of the beasts and causing the others to move away from  
the fierce little sting and its wielder and poor Bombur.

“That is for all the little people who are frightened of spiders.”  
He declared feeling very bold and warrior like indeed. “Especially for a  
young lass called Little Pip.’

“Come down! Come down!” Bilbo shouted to the others. “Don’t stay  
up there and be netted!” He had seen the other spiders swarming toward  
them, crawling directly over the Dwarves’ heads.

The Dwarves scrambled, jumped, and fell into a heap on the ground,  
feeling very shaky and weak from their ordeal. At last twelve of them were  
accounted for, and Bombur was propped between Bofur and Bifur. Bilbo  
danced about waving and jabbing with Sting; and all about them hundreds of  
angry spiders were watching them, quite enraged by this unexpected turn of  
events. All in all it looked hopeless.

Some of the Dwarves still had their knives, some had sticks, and they  
all made use of the abundant stones at their feet. And Bilbo had Sting.  
Again and again they were able to repel the spiders’ attacks, many spiders  
dying in the attempts. Bilbo felt very tired and only four Dwarves could  
stand steadily. The spiders were weaving their gruesome fences of webs and  
Bilbo had to do something or all would be lost.

“I am going to disappear.” He said, regretting that his magic ring  
would no longer be his secret. “I will try to draw the spiders off; and  
you must keep together. Make in the opposite direction. To the left  
there, toward where we saw the last of the elf-fires.”

They didn’t understand what he was saying, what with dizzy heads, and  
all the noise and flying stones. But at last Bilbo shook his head and  
slipped on his ring, and to the Dwarves vast amazement he vanished.

Soon away off to the right there came the sound of “Lazy Lob” and  
“Attercop”. This upset the spiders greatly and they stopped moving toward  
the Dwarves and some left to pursue the voice. Then finally, Balin  
realized what Bilbo had been telling them. He quickly led an attack on the  
remaining spiders. The huddled together throwing stones and jabbing with  
sticks and knives for all they were worth. At last they managed to break  
through the ring and flee. Behind them the shouting and singing stopped  
abruptly.

“Poor Bilbo.” Balin gasped. “I do hope that nothing has happened to  
him.”

But it was the Dwarves that were having trouble. The spiders had  
chased after them and because they were so weak, the Dwarves had to turn  
and continue fighting. Things might have gone badly for them if Bilbo  
hadn’t suddenly reappeared and charged the surprised spiders from behind.

“Go on! Go on!” he shouted to them. “I will do the stinging.”

He slashed and hacked at them and their webs. The spiders were very  
angry with him, but they had learned to fear Sting and didn’t dare move in  
too close. They spit curses at the retreating Dwarves, watching them move  
ever slowly away, but they could not pass Sting and its wielder to get at  
them. Bilbo’s arms were aching and his breath came in pants and gasps.

: I can’t keep this up much longer. : he thought desperately. :  
And I suppose I will be the spiders’ dinner. :

But then the spiders suddenly turned and gave way, fleeing back to  
their dark colony. He nearly collapsed with relief. But he didn’t linger,  
but trotted after the Dwarves.

The Dwarves had come to the edge of the clearing where the last of  
the ill- fated autumn feasts was held. It seemed to them that some good  
magic lingered here which the spiders did not like. The light here was  
greener, the trees seemed much more friendly. The all sat down heavily,  
panting and moaning. But when they had at last caught their breath the  
questions began.

They had to know all about Bilbo’s vanishing act and how it was  
accomplished. And Balin had insisted on hearing the entire story of Gollum  
and the riddles in the dark, and the finding of the ring. But then it  
began to grow dark, for the day was fast flying away. And they remembered  
how hungry they were.

“Where are we going to get food, Bilbo?”

“Where is the path, Bilbo?”

“Where are we, Bilbo?”

“What are we to do now, Bilbo?”

Bilbo felt a little overwhelmed to be thrust into such a position of  
leadership, but he was flattered as well. And it had been rather humbling  
when the Dwarves had stood and bowed to him – right to the ground –  
thanking him so profusely. Poor old Bombur bowed so low that he tipped  
right over.

Unfortunately he didn’t know where the path was, or food, or where to  
go, or what to do.

“Bilbo?” He heard a quiet voice ask.

‘Um, yes, Gloin?”

“The Elf maiden didn’t get taken by the spiders, did she?” The Dwarf  
asked in a concerned voice, gazing about the clearing.

“Really, Gloin. I suspect the Elves sent the spiders after us. Elf  
maiden.” Balin snorted, lying down to try and sleep.

Gloin ignored him and walked to the place where he had seen the  
maiden standing. A few flowers from the wreath lay on the ground, tangled  
with a few golden hairs. He bent reverently and picked them up. He raised  
the flowers to his nose and kissed the fair strands. Then he hastily put  
them into his tunic.

A while later, Dwalin opened his eyes and looked around.

“Where is Thorin?” he asked.

 

 

Where indeed was Thorin? Thorin knew only too well where he was. He  
had fallen asleep just as Bilbo had when he had stepped into the magically  
guarded clearing and lay there unaware of what was going on about him. He  
had slept through the battle that morning and hadn’t awakened until the  
Elves had come for him. They had stood staring down at him, eyes bright  
with disapproval. They had dragged him through the woods to Gladaran  
Thamas.

Thranduil’s palace was a great cave. Smaller caves opened out of it  
on every side, and the large cave itself wound downward, deeply into the  
earth. There were many rooms and passages, the walls delicately carved  
with likenesses of trees and flowers, vines and birds. Most of the Wood  
Elves lived in houses outside the palace, some nestled in the great beech  
trees. The cave contained many storehouses, treasure houses, and dungeons.  
And it was here that they dragged Thorin, who might have enjoyed gazing at  
the beauty of the stone and carvings at some other time under other  
circumstances.

The Elves brought him before Thranduil and removed the spell from  
him and the Dwarf glared up at the Elf king. He muttered under his breath.  
He didn’t like this particular Elf king one bit. He knew all the old  
grievances that his folk harbored against him and this appalling treatment  
didn’t do anything to change his assessment of Thranduil.

“I thought that Elves didn’t like caves.” He muttered.

Thranduil stared down at him, frowning. Behind him stood his three  
sons, two looking at him as fiercely as their father. The third’s  
expression was carefully blank.

Thorin stared back. He glared at the king and his sons. Two of them  
he recognized from the night before, but not the third. Though he seemed  
familiar somehow.

“What are you doing in Mirkwood Forest?” Thranduil asked abruptly.

“We were starving and looking for food.” He answered stubbornly, his  
eyebrows knit.

“How many of you are there?”

“We were starving and looking for food.”

“What have you come for?”

“We are starving and looking for food.”

Aralith giggled slightly and looked away. Celebross shot him a  
glance that silenced him.

Thranduil felt frustration building. He looked to Legolas who deftly  
avoided his eyes.

“How many of you are there in my forest?” He asked quietly, turning  
to the Dwarf once more.

“We were starving and looking for food.”

Thranduil drew a deep breath. His patience was beginning to wear  
thin. So he tried a different question.

“Why did you and your folk three times try to attack my people at  
their merrymaking?”

“We did not attack them.” Thorin answered “We came to beg, because  
we were starving. Attack them indeed.”

“Where are your friends now, and what are they doing?”

“I don’t know, but I expect starving in the forest.”

Legolas thought he heard a quiet voice drift from somewhere behind  
him: “I told you we should have given them food.”

“Shut up, Brethil.” Another voice hissed.

Thranduil turned to look at him again, and Legolas looked away,  
gazing intently at the ceiling.

“What were you doing in the forest?”

“Looking for food and drink, because we were starving.”

“But what brought you to the forest at all?!” Thranduil roared.

Thorin stuck out his bottom lip, folded his arms across his chest,  
and glared up at the Elf king. He would say no more.

Thranduil frowned.

“Very well! Take him away and keep him safe, until he feels inclined  
to tell the truth, even if he waits a hundred years.”

“That’s not very long.” The quiet voice said.

“Shut up, Brethil!”

Thorin glared at the king and his sons as thongs were tied around his  
wrists. But just before they lead him away, he turned back to them and  
stared at Legolas, a wicked gleam in his eyes.

“I recognize you now.” He said. “You’re Gloin’s beautiful Elf  
maiden dressed all in sparkly green with hair like spun gold, carrying a  
wreath of flowers.” And then amazingly he laughed.

Legolas’ face reddened and he stared at the Dwarf in confusion and  
embarrassment.

“What is he talking about?” Aralith asked, turning to his brother.

“I know now. I don’t think I want to know.” he muttered, shifting  
uneasily.

But the Dwarf laughed all the way to the dungeon.


	10. Pretty in Pink

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Hobbit AU. While the Dwarves are imprisoned in Thranduil's dungeons, Bilbo meets Legolas quite by accident. We find out why Elves don't smoke pipeweed.

Tanglinna had organized a group of Elves to hunt down the remaining  
Dwarves. They had gathered outside the large stone entrance doors and were  
awaiting the last member of their party. Tanglinna glanced at Tavor and  
Brethil who shrugged. They didn’t know what was holding him up either.  
Suddenly a loud cry of distress rang through the air.

“No, Father! Please! Don’t make me wear that! I can’t wear that!”

The softer voice of the king was muffled and they couldn’t hear his  
words, but they could hear his son’s.

“I swear I will never do anything like that again. Please, Ada!  
Please!”

The hunters glanced at one another wondering what was happening now.  
Silence fell and they looked toward the palace. A few minutes later they  
could hear voices again.

“You seem to enjoy sparkly things, nin ion. [my son] I felt it  
appropriate to give you some of your own.”

“Please, Ada. Please don’t make me –“

“Ah ah ah.” Thranduil was shaking his finger back and forth. “You  
better get used to it, unless you can stop some of these pranks.”

“But –“

“No, Legolas. You carry things too far and must be stopped. I think this  
will do it nicely.”

“Father, I won’t – “

“Yes. I am certain that you won’t.”

The two rounded the corner and the hunters gasped, then fell  
into convulsions of laughter.

Their prince stood at his father’s side, face red and scowling.  
Instead of his hunting leathers, so gratefully donned when they had  
returned to the palace, he wore a flowing tunic with billowing sleeves a  
slender belt of silver encircled his waist. Small glittery gems sparked on  
belt and on the high collar that fastened about his throat. It seemed to  
be strangling him. The shirt was a brilliant shade of pink. On his head  
was an ornate silver circlet shaped into flowers and leaves, gems sparkling  
there as well in shades of green and red and pink.

Tanglinna smirked and bowed to the king.

“Your Majesty,” he began. “I believe the Dwarves will see us coming  
many a mile off.”

Thranduil surveyed his handiwork, knowing he couldn’t have thought of  
a more brilliant revenge.

“Yes. He is rather a striking figure. Quite pretty really.”

Legolas’ hand clenched on his bow, but he said nothing.

: Perhaps he is learning. : Thranduil thought with a wry smile.

“I thought that you found that particular circlet in questionable  
taste, your Majesty.” Aradoltha, one of the hunters said, with a smile.

“I do. In questionable taste, like some of my son’s pranks.”

“ He can’t get much redder.” Brethil whispered to Tavor.

“No. I just hope that – “

Thranduil turned to them.

“And you may thank Tavor for the choice of color, Legolas.” He said,  
surveying the young Elf usually so sure of himself.

Legolas rounded on his friend, eyes narrowed.

“I…I never…Legolas, you know I wouldn’t….”

“I do believe,” Tanglinna drawled. “that I heard words to the effect  
that “It could be pink.” Or am I mistaken.”

Tavor stared at him open mouthed.

“He said that the green outfit could be worse if it were pink.”  
Brethil said, nudging his friend. “Don’t you remember?”

“Worse? Didn’t you like the green one?” Thranduil asked.

Legolas swallowed. Why was he being tortured like this?

“Yes.”

“What? I didn’t hear you.”

“Yes. I…I liked the green outfit.”

“Oh?” Thranduil said with a grin. “Then you want a pink outfit just  
like the green one?”

Legolas turned to him and hastily wiped the grimace from his face and  
swallowed the words that rose in his throat.

“No, father. I don’t…Thank you.”

“Truly? Too bad, I think it could be quite fetching.”

Tanglinna snorted.

“Where is that, er, enchanting outfit, Prince Legolas?” he asked,  
enjoying this very much. “I was hoping to see it on you again.”

Legolas’ eyes widened, and he glanced at Tavor and Brethil before he  
could stop himself.

“He – uh – he gave it to my sister.” Tavor said hastily. “Yes.  
That is it. My sister. She really, uh, appreciates it.  
Quite…er…enchanted really.”

Thranduil raised one eyebrow, but one look at his suffering son  
stopped him from saying anything further.

“I see…Well, go hunt some Dwarves, why don’t you. How many did you  
say there were, Brethil?”

“Fourt-uh-I…I don’t recall.” He looked up at Tavor who smiled  
tightly.

: Ah, dear. He is learning as well. : Thranduil thought. : We  
shall have to remedy that at some point. Can’t have that one learning to  
be discreet. Not after all the work I have put into him. :

He watched as they strode away, Tavor and Brethil immediately moving  
along side his son. He smiled imagining what they three were saying. He  
saw Legolas turn and glance backwards with a guilty expression on his face.  
Thranduil shook his head.

: You should at least wait until you are out of sight before you talk about  
me. :

“I can be rather a mean fellow.” He said, grinning as he walked down  
a path lined with ferns.

There was a sudden shriek from the kitchen garden and he hurried down  
the path to see a maiden with a basket of spilled herbs and late vegetables  
at her feet. A large spider was weaving slightly before her, a rather  
blank expression on its face.

But what caught Thranduil’s attention was the sparkling necklace  
around its furry neck. His eyes widened as he stared at the rather benign  
looking spider.

“Where are the three masters?” it hissed, bowing awkwardly on its  
long hairy legs. “I wanted to show them this pretty sparkly thing. Though  
I don’t remember where I got it.”

“Little Greenleaf!!” He yelled, causing the maiden and the spider to  
jump in surprise. He whirled about hurrying away to count his necklaces.

 

 

 

 

The small band of hunters walked lightly through the forest, laughing  
and singing merrily. All except the three at the back: the youngest one  
looking worried and tugging on his braids while darting glances at the  
other two; the eldest, usually so smooth and glib, was silent, his brow  
furrowed as he fought to think of something to say; and the last, his face  
looking so like his father’s when in high dudgeon that Tanglinna could  
barely control his own hoot of laughter.

“Legolas, I am so sorry.” Brethil began. “I knew we shouldn’t have  
gone so far with these…uh…pranks. But the two of you just won’t stop.”

Tavor turned to sneer at him.

“It is your mouth that got us into trouble this time, Brethil. And  
those Dwarves-“

“You should have let me give them some food.”

“Brethil, sometimes you really –“

“You never listen to me and now look at him! This is all your  
fault!”

“It is not. If you could have –“

“Will you both shut up.” Legolas hissed at them. “You are not  
making this any easier.”

They both turned to look at him, his blue eyes sparkling darkly, his  
face no longer red but the fair cheeks still flushed above the glittering  
gem encrusted collar.

Tavor raised one eyebrow, eyes widening in assessment and looked at  
Brethil, who suddenly felt his lips twitch.

“Well, if it is any consolation, Legolas,” Tavor began seeing  
Brethil’s face contort as he tried to control his own laughter. “You look  
very pretty in pink.”

The two burst out laughing and sprinted away. Legolas lips pulled  
back in a snarl, and with a quick glance at Tanglinna, he thrust his bow at  
Aradoltha, and ran after them.

“Here we go again.” Ryn said with a shake of his fair head, green  
eyes alight with amusement.

“They will never learn.” Aradoltha commented, with a grin.

“Then I suspect that we will be seeing that rather fetching ensemble  
quite a bit on our prince.” Sern laughed.

“It is a good color on him.” Amdir said with a slight smirk.

“Perhaps all the Dwarves will fall in love with him and come along  
quietly.” A young Elf named Meren said.

Tanglinna said nothing, staring after the three, his eyes bright. He  
was enjoying these little games quite a lot and hoped they would continue  
for some time. There were very few that had ever managed to ruffle his  
king’s feathers the way those three did. And Thranduil the wise and good  
needed his feathers ruffled on occasion.

“Come.” He murmured at last. “We need to stop them before they  
scare the Dwarves away before we can catch them. The king would not be  
pleased if they escaped us. And I don’t think we would look nearly so  
good in pink as our prince.”

The hunters trotted through the silent trees, which rang with their  
mirth and laughter.

 

 

Bilbo and the Dwarves trudged heavily through the forest each lost in  
his own thoughts of hunger and thirst and weariness. The muted shadows of  
evening were falling and they had been walking – :Staggering. : Bilbo  
thought with a sigh. – through the woods in their last attempt to be free  
of it.

“I don’t think we shall ever see the end of this forest.” Ori  
moaned. “We’ll die here forgotten by everyone.”

“I wonder what Gandalf will think when we don’t come out.” Bifur  
said quietly.

“I suspect he will feel guilty for not coming with us. Why did he  
send us through here alone?” Bofur countered. “He’s a Wizard, didn’t he  
know what would befall us?”

“Maybe he thought the Elves would help us if we needed it. Dratted  
Elves.” Dwalin muttered.

“This is all their fault. They should have fed us.” Nori said,  
scratching his yellow beard.

“The Elf maiden would have helped us if they hadn’t whisked her away  
so quickly.” Gloin said, his hand going to touch the spot above his heart  
where lay the Elf maiden’s hair and crushed flowers.

The others turned to stare at him.

“You are quite pathetic.” Dori said, with as much of a grin as he  
could muster.

As they moved along following Bilbo who was lost deep in his food  
litany, Balin moved to join Gloin.

“I have been thinking.” He began hesitantly with a glance at the  
others. “The Elf maiden in sparkly green was rather wondrous to behold.”  
His eyes gleamed with a soft light as he remembered the maiden. “Fair as a  
rose in May.” He sighed.

Gloin gazed at him in wonder, thinking perhaps he should share his  
few treasured strands of golden hair. But, no, he decided. He couldn’t  
bear to part with them.

The others turned to look at the two.

Kili laughed at them and turned to Fili.

“Can you believe them? In love with an Elf.”

Fili stared at him and blinked.

“She was rather pretty.” He stammered. “In an Elvish sort of way.”  
He added hastily.

The others laughed, momentarily forgetting their woes, which were  
manifold and overwhelming. It felt good to think of something other than  
parched throats, pinched stomachs, being lost, and without Thorin.

“Her hair was rather beautiful.” Dori admitted reluctantly. “Rather  
like spun gold.”

“Just as I said.” Gloin declared with a smile, warming to this  
subject readily.

“I am sure she smelled rather nice. Unlike us.” Nori grimaced as he  
lifted his arm. “Probably sweet as honeysuckle.”

“Roses.” Balin said. “She must smell of fresh pink roses kissed  
with dew.”

Again they all turned to him. He was becoming quite a poet.

“That was a really nice outfit. I should rather like one like it.”

Now they all turned to stare at Oin who had a dreamy expression on  
his face.

“Or not.” He said quietly, quailing beneath their scrutiny.

Bilbo kept his thoughts to himself, for his sharp eyes had detected  
something the Dwarves hadn’t noticed. Their Elf maiden was an Elf male.  
The manner of dress was masculine, though somewhat frilly and fluffy. But  
they were Elves after all. He didn’t wish to ruin their fantasy though, so  
he let them jabber on about the fair as a rose maiden in sparkly green and  
smiled to himself. At least they weren’t complaining. And it didn’t  
matter, since they would probably never see “her” again.

It was then that torches suddenly flared around them, just as they  
had in the clearings before during the Elves’ feasts. Elves jumped out  
before them, spears leveled at the Dwarves, bows held ready, arrow points  
gleaming in the firelight. Bilbo gasped and slipped on his ring and  
silently moved to one side away from the others, who had plopped to the  
ground.

“You are coming with us, Dwarves.” Tanglinna told them, eyes  
narrowed. “The king would have a word with you.”

The Dwarves stared wordless up at him. He looked so fierce that they  
wouldn’t have tried to fight even if they weren’t so starved and tired.  
Bright Elvish eyes glittered all about them, their muted brown and green  
clothing blending with the surroundings. All but one.

Gloin gasped and clutched his heart. Ah! The fair one was here!  
But why did she travel with such savage warriors? Were they her  
protectors?

Balin’s eyes had traveled to her as well. He smiled and sighed.

“A fair pink rose kissed by the dew.” He murmured.

All the Dwarves had noticed her, it was impossible not to dressed in  
such a bright color and looking so fetching standing there with a bow.

“A Warrior Maiden.” Dori whispered, feeling a thrill of excitement.

“Silence, Dwarves.” Tanglinna hissed at them, motioning for  
Aradoltha and Ryn to bind their wrists and put them into a long straggling  
line.

“Twelve of them, Tanglinna.” Meren said, after counting them.

“Twelve?” He shot a glance at Tavor, Legolas, and Brethil. He knew  
one sat in the dungeons already, but Brethil had said –or almost said –  
fourteen. He gazed about the clearing, causing Bilbo to quake with  
apprehension. But his eyes passed over the Hobbit. The Master Archer  
shook his head. “Let’s get them back.”

“That was awfully easy.” Brethil said quietly, as they walked beside  
the line of Dwarves.

“Almost too easy.” Tavor commented staring at the Dwarves in wonder.  
“I at least expected some resistance.”

“They are tired and hungry. That is all.” Legolas said, his eyes on  
the Dwarves. Were they staring at him? He felt a flush creep up his neck.  
: You shouldn’t embarrass me in front of the Dwarves this way. : he  
thought angrily at his father. He looked hastily away.

Tavor had noticed the undue amount of attention that Legolas was  
receiving from the small captives. But then he realized they were not  
looking at him in amusement. Could it be…admiration? He scrutinized  
their faces and saw that yes, indeed, it was admiration and - he nearly  
laughed out loud – infatuation.

“Legolas, those Dwarves are staring at you.” Brethil said, his face  
puzzled.

“It’s this stupid outfit. I can’t wait to throw it to the spiders.”

“’Tis not the outfit, my prince. But the one in the outfit that  
draws their attention.”

“What are you talking about, Tavor?”

“Look again at them. They are…how shall I put this…The Dwarves  
appear to be in love with you.”

Legolas wheeled on him, gazing at him, waiting to see the jest in his  
eyes. But then he looked to the Dwarves. Several of them were staring  
unabashedly at him, dark eyes filled with – He gulped. Then one with a  
dirty white hood bowed his head, touching his hand to his heart and smiled.  
Another one, somewhat larger than the others with a purple hood trailing  
down his back, grinned and flexed his muscles as well as he could in his  
bonds. Yet another seemed to be whispering something about pink roses.

Legolas’ mouth fell open and he staggered backwards, nearly bowling  
poor old Bilbo over as he followed them as silently as a mouse.

Brethil started to giggle, which only drew the attention of the  
others.

Tanglinna glanced sharply at Tavor who raised one eyebrow.

“They find the Princess of Mirkwood rather pretty in pink.” He said  
in Sindarin, knowing the Dwarves couldn’t understand him.

A wicked grin flashed across the older Elf’s face. Thranduil would  
get a kick out of this. Or perhaps he would regret that he had made his  
youngest son dress in such a manner. If he laughed or admitted that he had  
gone too far with this himself it wouldn’t matter. Either way it would be  
fun to tell him.

The Dwarves knew that something amused the Elves as they all burst  
out laughing and singing songs.

: They must be singing about the maiden. For she blushes so  
prettily. Ah, : he smiled, feeling his heart swell even more. : She is  
modest as well as beautiful.


	11. Fair as a Rose in May

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Hobbit AU. While the Dwarves are imprisoned in Thranduil's dungeons, Bilbo meets Legolas quite by accident. We find out why Elves don't smoke pipeweed.

Thranduil was wondering where Cuil and Calenthar had taken the spider  
as he waited for the hunters to return with the Dwarves. The silly beast  
had started chattering about its new acquisition, which it refused to yield  
to the king.

“It is mine.” The spider had hissed at him. “It is mine, not yours.  
I am sure that the three masters gave it to me, though I cannot remember  
their doing it. I have others much like it that they gave to me, though  
not as sparkly and pretty.”

: Others, : Thranduil thought wearily. : How many others have you  
given to the spider, little Greenleaf? : He had not had the heart to kill  
it so he had sent it with Cuil and Calenthar to find it a place to stay out  
of the way until his son and his friends returned.

: What a wearying day.” He thought, pressing his hand to his head.  
He crossed the room and poured himself a cup of tea. He sipped it  
thoughtfully, sinking into a chair. : Vandal Root. : he thought with  
satisfaction. : That should help me relax. : He leaned back in his chair  
and closed his eyes, covering them with a cool damp cloth, allowing the  
calming herbs to do their work.

By the time the pot was drained he was feeling quite mellow and  
content. He allowed himself a small smile and hummed to himself. He heard  
the door open and two people enter, but he didn’t open his eyes or look up.

“Whatever it is, it can wait.” He said. “I am in too good a mood to  
hear anything you have to say. So come back later.” He swung his hands  
slightly in time to the music in his head.

He heard feet shuffling and whispered voices.

“Um…your Majesty. This is important. The spider has -”

“No, no, no. I am not listening.”

“Sire, please. The spider is -“

“No, not now.” Thranduil could feel his good mood dissipating as  
they lingered.

The two Elves looked at one another. One shrugged.

“The spider is in your room, Majesty. Going through your jewelry.”

Thranduil sat up, the cloth dropping to his lap.

“What did you say?!”

Cuil and Calenthar glanced at one another, and slowly backed toward  
the door.

“The spider is in your room –“

“I heard you!” Thranduil sprang from the chair and pushed passed the  
two Elves, muttering curses and invectives as he went. He strode down the  
corridor scattering anyone in his way, with merely the look on his face and  
his flashing eyes. Several people were standing outside his room, peering  
into it with looks of amazement, fear, and amusement. When they heard the  
king coming they quickly gave way.

Thranduil stopped in the doorway and stared at what he saw. Several  
of his robes were scattered about on the floor and the bed; his boxes of  
jewels and stones lay open on the tables and before the large mirror was  
the spider, holding up a particularly bright necklace with a large white  
stone dangling from it, his favorite robe of indigo draped over the  
spiders’ large back.

“What a pretty thing.” It creaked. “Pretty white stone that glows  
nicely.”

Thranduil trembled with rage.

“What is that thing doing in here?!” He turned to glare at Cuil and  
Calenthar.

“It…um…we…um…that is…”

Thranduil growled, his headache returning.

“Get it out of here now!” he roared. “Get it out of here and take  
it and put it…” He grimaced, clenching at his temples. “Put it in  
Legolas’ room. Lock it in there. He can take care of it when he returns.”  
The king whirled about and stormed down the hallway. “And clean up that  
mess!”

Cuil and Calenthar exchanged slightly relieved glances.

“I fear for those Dwarves when they do arrive.” Cuil said quietly as  
they moved into the room to try and convince the spider to leave. “I would  
not want to be in their place.”

“Hmph. I would not want to be in Prince Legolas’ place.”

Cuil smiled, tapping the spider gingerly on its back to get its  
attention.

“I would not want to be in his place now. Did you see his new  
outfit?”

Calenthar smiled.

“Aye. Very becoming if I do say so.”

The two laughed and coaxed the spider away, allowing it to keep its  
bauble as it wouldn’t leave without it.

“Come, Gwibess. It is time to go and visit the master’s room.”  
Calenthar said, hooking a leash to the necklace about its neck. The leash  
had been found in Legolas’ room, and it glittered with tiny blue gems.

Gwibess creaked and hissed happily to itself as they lead it down  
the hall.

“Wait until the masters see this one. It is very pretty. They will  
like it on me, I am sure.”

Several Elves watched as Cuil and Calenthar lead the spider down the  
hall. It was quite docile. Celebross and Aralith had joined them. They  
stood shaking their heads.

“I fear for the three masters.” Aralith whispered with a laugh.

“I don’t think our youngest prince will ever get to wear anything but  
pink ever again.” Thuio said.

“I think that it would be a good night to go sleep beneath the stars  
in one of the far clearings. Far enough away to not hear the shrieking.”  
Celebross commented, glancing at his brother.

Aralith nodded.

“That is an excellent idea, brother. Though I would dearly love to  
see the look on Legolas’ face when father tells him he may not change his  
clothes.” He smirked. “But I do not wish to hear the fireworks. Let us  
go.”

The two brothers and several others hurried from the palace, talking  
delightedly about what might happen in their absence.

 

 

Bilbo trotted quickly behind the Elves who lead the Dwarves across a  
bridge toward the Hall of the Wood Elf King. The Hobbit glanced down at  
the black rushing water and hurried across. He was a bit surprised to see  
the Elves taking the Dwarves into a large cave, the entrance behind two  
massive stone doors. He had thought that the Elves would live in the  
trees. Then he noticed in the distance, faint lights and glimmers and  
torches burning. Delicate houses were nestled beneath the towering beeches  
and oaks as well as in the branches over head. But he didn’t have time to  
think about it now as he rushed behind the others , quiet as a mouse.

As he had traveled through the woods he had been grateful for the  
bright pink tunic that the one Elf wore. It had been much easier to see  
than the browns and greens worn by the others. He could hear snatches of  
conversation between the three young Elves that lagged slightly behind. He  
couldn’t understand all the words they said, but he could tell by the tone  
of their voices and the looks on their fair faces that they were not happy.  
Especially the one in pink.

: I wouldn’t be happy either, dressed like that. : he thought  
sympathetically.

“It is just the outfit, isn’t it?” Legolas was saying, plucking at  
the soft material in disgust. “I don’t really look like a girl. Do I?  
Please, tell me it is the outfit!”

“Of course it is the outfit.” Tavor assured him. “It is pink and  
well, that is a girl’s color.” He had never seen Legolas so distressed  
before.

Brethil, who had been rather quiet, looked up at them.

“I don’t know.” He began quietly, studying Legolas’ face. “You are  
very beautiful.”

Legolas turned to him, regarding him with despair.

“What?”

“Well, you are. Even Tavor has said so.”

“What?! I said no such thing.” Tavor’s face reddened. “I didn’t  
Legolas. Honestly! Brethil, what are you playing at?”

Legolas looked at Tavor, blue eyes filled with suspicion.

“I didn’t! Brethil is making this up! Tell him, Brethil!”

But the younger Elf merely gazed at them with innocent grey eyes.

“Tavor!” Legolas gasped. “No! Don’t touch me! Stay back. First  
the Dwarves, and now you. I thought you were my friend. Just stay away  
from me!” He hurried away from the two, joining Meren and Ryn, glancing  
back accusingly at Tavor.

Tavor turned on Brethil,

“Why did you tell him that?! You know it wasn’t true!”

Brethil grinned.

“I know. How was that for retaliation. I think I am getting the  
hang of this after all. I fooled you both!” He laughed merrily and moved  
to join Legolas and the others, leaving Tavor staring after him open  
mouthed.

Bilbo watched carefully as they entered Thranduil’s palace, but soon  
became lost in the labyrinth of passageways and corridors twisting and  
turning in every direction.

: Oh, dear. : he thought in despair. : How will I ever find the way  
out? :

The doors had shut behind them as if by magic, nearly catching him as  
he slipped through. And such a dreadful feeling it was to be shut up in  
here with no idea of where he was going or how he would get out again.

: Keep your wits about you, Baggins! : he told himself sternly. :  
You’re going to need them. :

The Elves escorted the Dwarves into a large room with gracefully  
carved pillars. Seated on a chair delicately carved with vines, leaves and  
flowers was Thranduil. He was dressed in dark green robes that shimmered  
in the light of the many torches and scented candles. On his golden head  
was a crown of berries and bright red leaves. He held a staff of oak  
skillfully carved, its end resting on the floor at his feet.

: Good heavens! : Bilbo thought with a moment of panic. : He does  
not look happy. The poor Dwarves! I wonder what he will do to them? :

Thranduil’s eyes swept over the string of Dwarves waiting as the  
blindfolds were removed. His eyes moved to his son, whom he noticed was  
not standing with Tavor at his side. He raised one eyebrow at that and  
then scowled deeply at his youngest.

: What did I do now? : Legolas wondered. : I haven’t even been  
here. What could possibly have happened now? :

The Dwarves blinked in the sudden light and looked about.

“Good stone.” Balin said, admiring the room. “Looks like it was  
carved by Dwarves.”

“Silence!” Thranduil barked. His head was pounding, there was  
spider hair on his robe, the necklace that matched this outfit was missing,  
and he was not in a good mood. He glared at Legolas and gestured sharply  
for him to stand at his side. Celebross and Aralith seemed to have  
disappeared which had not pleased the king either. “Unbind the Dwarves.”  
He said. “And bring them closer. They aren’t going anywhere.” He stared  
down at them imperiously. “There is no escape from my magic doors for  
those who are once brought inside.”

: Oh, dear. : the Hobbit thought. : Now even if I can find them  
again, which I doubt, I won’t be able to get out of them. :

Then the interrogation began and a long and arduous one it was.  
Thranduil was stubborn, but the Dwarves were angry and surly and stubborn  
as well.

“What have we done, O king?” Balin asked, feeling that as the  
eldest, now that Thorin had gone missing, it was his place to speak for  
them all. “Is it a crime to be lost in the forest, to be hungry and  
thirsty, to be trapped by spiders? Are the spiders your tame beasts or  
your pets, if killing them makes you angry?”

Thranduil’s face darkened and he turned to glare at his son once  
more. : Pet spiders indeed, : he thought, recalling how his room looked  
and the robes covered with spider hair and the missing jewelry.

: What did I do? : Legolas wondered, amazed at the shade of red that  
his father’s face had turned.

Thranduil growled in his throat and turned back to the Dwarves.

“It is a crime to wander in my kingdom without leave. Do you forget  
that you were in my kingdom, using the road that my people made? Did you  
not three times pursue and trouble my people in the forest and rouse the  
spiders with your riot and clamor? After all the disturbance you have made  
I have a right to know what brings you here, and if you will not tell me  
now, I will keep you all in prison until you have learned sense and  
manners! And why are you staring at my son in that way?!”

Gloin, Balin, Fili, Nori and Dori jumped, hardly realizing that they  
were indeed staring at Legolas.

“Son?” Dori whispered. “Son?!”

“Yes, my son.” Thranduil said, turning to look at Legolas. He  
studied his son in his pink outfit, then frowned. “Who is about to change  
out of that ridiculous thing he is wearing. Yes. He is my son. And you  
are not to look at him thus!”

“Son?” Balin said, staring even harder. “But he is as fair as a  
rose in May.”

Legolas mouth fell open in horror.

Tanglinna stifled a laugh, his eyes bright as they met Thranduil’s.  
The king shook his head and clutched his temples, which were pounding  
mercilessly.

“Take them to the dungeons.” He said. “Give them something to eat  
and drink. But not one of them is to pass out of their cells until they  
tell me what I want to know. Now get them out of here!”

The Dwarves were marched away. Gloin, Balin, Fili, Nori and Dori  
glancing back at Legolas.

“Son.” Balin whispered, in disbelief. “His son.”

Gloin shook his head, his hand on his tunic, over his treasured spun  
gold hairs.

“He is only saying that because we are Dwarves so we will not look at  
her. She is much too fair to be a son.”

After they had left, the four Dwarves still gazing behind them,  
Thranduil turned to Legolas.

“Do you see this, little Greenleaf?” he asked, holding up the corner  
of his robe.

Legolas stared at it.

“I don’t see –“ Then he did see the small silvery hairs. Very  
familiar hairs. He swallowed.

“Do you know what they are?” Thranduil continued.

Legolas nodded slightly.

“Spider hairs?”

“Yes. Spider hairs.” Thranduil’s voice was very quiet and very  
calm. It scared his son immensely. “And how do you suppose they got  
there?”

Legolas turned to look at Brethil and Tavor.

“I…I can’t imagine.”

“Well, I will tell you.”

Tanglinna covered his ears and all but Brethil and Tavor fled the  
room.

“BECAUSE THERE WAS A SPIDER IN MY ROOM, WEARING ONE OF MY NECKLACES -  
AND MY ROBE! THAT IS WHY!!”

Legolas squeezed his eyes shut and shuddered. Across the room  
Brethil’s eyes brightened.

“Oh! Did Gwibess come home? How wonderful! You didn’t have to  
worry after all, Legolas. Everything is fine now.”


	12. Magic Bubble Pipes, Spider Spray, and Goblin Dolls

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Hobbit AU. While the Dwarves are imprisoned in Thranduil's dungeons, Bilbo meets Legolas quite by accident. We find out why Elves don't smoke pipeweed.

It all began when a certain Hobbit named Bilbo Baggins got rather  
bored with hiding in dark corners and forgotten rooms. And as he grew  
bolder, he found out some interesting and helpful things.

Bilbo had been inside Gladaran Thamas, hiding and sneaking food from  
the storerooms, for several days now. He wandered the corridors hoping to  
find his way to the Dwarves’ cells, but he had not had any success as yet.  
He knew he couldn’t stay cowering in his dark corners forever, so he  
ventured forth more and more, becoming braver and bolder with each passing  
day. He found his way to King Thranduil’s magic doors and watched as they  
opened for the hunting parties and anyone coming in or going out of the  
palace. The doors always closed quickly behind them, which gave the Hobbit  
a slight feeling of apprehension. : What did it feel like to have stone  
doors close on one? : he wondered with a shudder. That had nearly happened  
when escaping from the Goblins after fleeing the creature Gollum. He had  
lost many buttons in the process and did not want that to happen again!  
But he had to get out! Perhaps if he could get into the woods he could  
find the way out of Mirkwood and find Gandalf. He tried not to think of  
the endless sea of trees he had seen as he sat in the top of the giant oak  
tree so long ago. If he could just escape the walls of this prison he knew  
he could do it.

One day he stood near the doors and watched as a hunting party  
approached. In the group were the two friends of the King’s son. All the  
hunters carried their sturdy bows; their quivers filled with arrows  
fletched with pale brown feathers. They laughed and joked, but Bilbo heard  
their comments about the increase in the spider’s activities since the  
Dwarves had blundered though Mirkwood.

: I can do this. : Bilbo told himself as he fell into step behind  
the last hunter. : I can slip through before the doors close on me. :

The magic doors, one carved with a great beech tree and one with a  
great oak, slowly opened and the hunters filed out still speaking to one  
another in their soft musical voices. Bilbo stayed as close as he dared  
and approached the gaping gates.

: Steady, Baggins. We are almost there. :

As the last hunter slipped through, the doors immediately began to  
close. Bilbo hustled through, the great stone gates nearly pinching and  
scrapping his middle as he turned sideways to avoid being crushed by them  
as they shut with a delicate musical chime.

He breathed a sigh of relief then looked up. He was free! He was  
out of the Elf King’s Palace! He wanted to jump and shout his triumph  
aloud, but knew the folly of that. Instead he stood for a moment breathing  
deeply of the fresh air and feeling quite good. He was about to run and  
join the hunting party as they headed for the great stone bridge that  
spanned the forest river, called the Celon o Tinnu, the River of Night, by  
the Elves, when the doors opened once more.

Bilbo let out a woof of surprise as he was bowled over by another Elf  
and fell to the ground. The Elf fared no better as he crashed to the  
ground in an undignified heap. Bilbo hastily crawled to one side, wanting  
no more such mishaps, and sat catching his breath. The Elf sat up, looking  
very shocked.

The hunters had turned at his cry of surprise and were now laughing  
and smiling with amusement at his chagrin.

“What happened, Legolas?” Tavor called, his grey eyes shining.  
“Tripping over your own feet now?”

Legolas stood and turned, wondering what he had tripped over. But  
there was nothing in the path. His dark brows knit and he turned slowly to  
the others.

“I…I don’t know.” He answered, glancing behind him once more. There  
was something glinting on the paved stones, so he bent and picked it up.  
It was a tiny brass button with a daisy etched on it. None of the Elves  
wore brass buttons. Perhaps one of the Dwarves had lost it on the way in.  
He shrugged and tucked it into his tunic. As he turned away, brushing off  
his tunic and leggings, he thought he heard a voice mutter,

“Oh bother! My button!”

He spun toward the sound, but saw no one and nothing.

“Come, Prince Legolas. The spiders await.” Aradoltha called.

“Surely it is not Silivren Hithlain Man [White Mist Spirit] again.”  
Tavor asked with a malicious grin. He turned glancing into the trees  
beyond. “It is day and there is no mist. But does it now seek you in some  
other guise?”

“No.” Legolas said, glaring at his friend. “Don’t be ridiculous.  
Let us go.” He moved to join the others, brushing past the laughing Tavor.

“You still don’t believe in that, do you Legolas?” Brethil asked  
quietly, his own eyes betraying unseemly fear.

“No. Didn’t I just say that?” The Prince of Mirkwood shook his head  
and moved across the bridge. “Spirits don’t wear brass buttons.”

Brethil hastened after him.

“Silivren Hithlain Man.” He whispered, bumping into Legolas as he  
looked behind at the palace entrance.

Bilbo hurried behind, brushing at his jacket and breeches, staring at  
the empty place on his vest.

“My poor button. Bother that! I shall have to get it back.” His  
fingers plucked at the fabric with tiny threads still poking through. He  
moved silently over Iant or i Celon o Tinnu – the bridge over the River of  
Night. Then he ran to catch up with the hunters, two of whom were feeling  
somewhat uneasy now.

“We – We aren’t going near any willow groves, are we?” Brethil  
asked, clutching his bow tightly.

Tavor grinned at Aradoltha and Cuil, who grinned back shaking their  
heads.

“Well, actually Brethil, we were. The Dwarves seem to have stirred  
up the spiders that live near this unusual grove of ancient willows.” The  
older hunter said.

Brethil gasped and glanced at Legolas.

“You – you’re making that up, Cuil.” He stammered. “He is, isn’t  
he? I mean if Silivren Hithlain Man sees you it would –“

“He is making this up, Brethil.” Legolas stated sharply, glaring at  
Cuil and Aradoltha.

Bilbo, who only understood part of the words – though each day he  
learned more and more – had understood the words Silivren Hithlain Man. He  
had heard two young Elves discussing it one night as the mist crept ever  
closer to the palace.

: White Mist Spirit? Those two seem afraid of it, whatever it is. :

But a Hobbit is not easily frightened, and certainly not a Hobbit who  
had battled Trolls, Spiders, and overcome any number of terrifying things.  
Little did he know that in Silivren Hithlain Man would be a big help to him  
over the next few days. After all Hobbits are very inventive when needs  
strikes.

 

 

Silivren Hithlain Man was the name of a ghostly spirit that was said  
to live in a fabled willow grove somewhere in Mirkwood Forest. It was a  
tale passed down from the early ages and as a small child Legolas had heard  
it, while sitting before a great bonfire at one of the many feasts held by  
the wood Elves in the autumn. His brothers sensing his fear had taken  
advantage of it and woven a great tale about the legend, that Silivren  
Hithlain Man was ever seeking entrance to the palace to steal away the  
youngest royal child. It took the form of a dense mist that crept through  
the trees and across Celon o Tinnu to the very gates themselves. Both  
Celebross and Aralith had enjoyed terrorizing their younger brother,  
finding his childish fear a source of great delight.

Many a night Thranduil had a small child huddled in his bed, shaking  
with fear.

“Oh, Adar! I heard it! Silivren Hithlain Man! It is under my  
window! It was coming to get me! Please let me stay with you, Adar!”

It was Mithrandir who finally found a solution to the problem that  
did not lessen as quickly as Thranduil thought it should. The Istari had  
blown his “Magic Smoke Rings” in a protective circle about the room, much  
to the delight of the small Elf child.

“Nothing bad can get passed them.” He had promised solemnly. “Not a  
spider; not an Orc or Goblin; not a White Mist Spirit. You need fear  
nothing now, my young prince.” He tousled the blonde hair, his blue eyes  
twinkling kindly.

Legolas hadn’t thought of Mithrandir’s Angol Osp Echor [Magic Smoke  
Rings] in many years. But he thought of them now. He was seated at the  
table with his father and two brothers that night. They were outside,  
beneath the glittering stars of autumn in a secluded family garden that  
overlooked the river. Legolas’ eyes were looking worriedly at the dark  
trees beyond the River of Night. Mist was wending its way along the ground  
curling and pale, misty fingers creeping and grasping; slowly nearing the  
river’s edge.

: This is ridiculous. : He thought sternly. : I am not a child to  
be scared by mists and shadows. : He deliberately looked away from the  
white shrouded trees and reached for his bread. But his fingers closed on  
nothing. He turned to stare at the small white plate, the edges painted  
with delicate twining ivy leaves. He looked up in surprise, then at the  
ground and on his lap. But the bread was gone.

He glanced over at Celebross, whom, though he could taunt and tease,  
would not have played this sort of childish prank. But Aralith – Legolas  
scowled over at his other brother. He was speaking quietly to their  
father, his blue eyes innocent. Aralith was not one to hide his glee when  
he had pulled a particularly good trick.

Legolas shook his head and reached for another piece of bread and put  
it on his plate.

An owl hooted deep in the forest and he started, turning suddenly to  
stare across the River. He swallowed, noting how much closer the mist had  
crept in such a short space of time. Soon it would be spreading its  
skeletal white fingers across that black water and –

He turned away, reaching for his bread. But again the plate was  
empty. He looked to Aralith who was now speaking with Celebross.

Thranduil looked over at his youngest son and smiled. Legolas forced  
his lips to twist into what he hoped was a smile, then lifted the white  
tablecloth to peer beneath it. There was nothing under the table.

“What are you doing, little Greenleaf?”

He dropped the cloth into place and straightened, looking at his  
father.

“Nothing. I…um…I…’tis nothing.” He reached for yet another piece of  
bread.

“You don’t have that spider under there, do you?” Celebross asked,  
peering beneath the cloth himself.

“Of course not. I took her back to her nest.”

“All sparkly green and pink no doubt.” Aralith smirked.

Legolas glared at him, barely resisting the urge to stick out his  
tongue. Aralith struggled with the same old urge and Thranduil cleared his  
throat, eyebrows raised. The two brothers scowled fiercely at one another  
then turned away. Celebross shook his head and began to speak to his  
father once more.

Legolas, still scowling, reached for his bread, now convinced that it  
was Aralith who had taken the other pieces. But once again, the bread was  
gone.

He felt a shudder go through him. It hadn’t been Aralith that time;  
or Celebross either. Then who was it?

Silivren Hithlain Man.

He gasped slightly, feeling foolish, but unable to control the wave  
of unreasoning fear that shot through his body.

“Father?” His eyes strayed to the mist, which was moving out over  
the water even as he watched.

“Yes, Legolas?”

“Do you – Do you remember that – that pipe that Mithrandir gave me so  
long ago?”

Thranduil frowned in thought.

“Why yes. I have not thought of it in years. What has made you  
think of it?”

Celebross and Aralith exchanged glances, both turning to peer out  
over the water; Aralith’s chair squealing noisily as it scrapped across the  
flags.

“Silivren Hithlain Man!” they both exclaimed, looking over at their  
brother with wicked delight.

“That is not why!” Legolas said, hoping that he hadn’t sounded too  
petulant. “I was – I was merely wondering what had happened to it.”

“Yours only blew bubbles, Lego.” Celebross said. “Not Magic Smoke  
Rings.”

“They were Magic Bubbles, Celebross!” Legolas countered.  
“Mithrandir said so.”

Aralith stared at his younger brother in amazement.

“You didn’t really believe that, did you? You did!” He burst into  
peals of delight.

Legolas pushed to his feet.

“What about your Magic Spider Spray, Aralith? Or your Magic Goblin  
Doll, Celebross.”

Aralith sputtered, but his face reddened.

“How did you know about the Magic Spider Spray?” He asked.

“Was that why your room always smelled so funny?” Celebross asked  
with a grin.

“Oh! At least I didn’t sleep with a Goblin Doll. I suppose that you  
were just –“

“Silence!” Thranduil bellowed. “That is enough from you three!” He  
banged the table with his fist, causing the dishes and utensils to jump  
noisily. “You still act like children! I cannot believe this! Honestly I  
don’t know where you get this lack of maturity!”

Celebross looked to Aralith, who glanced at Legolas. Each could hear  
a voice shrieking when someone had thought that one of his necklaces was  
lost in Morn Nen. And Legolas could still see his father’s red face as he  
had yelled about poor Gwibess trying on his robes and necklaces, and  
leaving spider hair on everything.

When his three sons turned to look at him once more – Celebross’  
eyebrows cocked in an exact imitation of his sire; Aralith smirking like  
Tavor in top form; and Legolas looking somewhat uneasily at him - : Please,  
no more pink tunics! : – Thranduil’s brows furrowed dangerously, his mouth  
turning down in a frown.

“What are you implying?” He asked quietly.

“Oh, nothing, Father.” Celebross said smoothly. “What makes you  
think we are implying anything?”

Thranduil turned to Aralith, who swallowed a tell tale laugh.

“Did Lego get all of the spider hairs from your indigo robe?” He  
snorted. He and Celebross had been informed of that little episode after  
their return.

Thranduil studied them closely.

“And is all of your jewelry accounted for now?” Aralith continued  
heedlessly.

Legolas stared at him in wonder. Aralith could not be unaware of the  
danger he was in!

: At least I will not be the one to get yelled at this time. : he  
thought seeing his father’s face darkening.

Thranduil opened his mouth, then amazingly he seemed to realize what  
he was about to do. Screaming at one’s children was really rather – well,  
immature. He closed his mouth, blinked a few times and turned to Legolas.

“Your Magic Bubble Pipe is in the chest in your mother’s room along  
with Celebross’ doll. Though I do not know where Aralith’s Spider Spray  
is.” He said calmly. Then he slowly stood. “Excuse me. Good night, nin  
ionnath.” And he walked sedately away.

“Great Valar!” Celebross breathed. “I have never seen him do that  
before. I thought you were in for it, Aralith. Perhaps there is hope for  
us yet.”

Aralith stared after their father, looking quite bewildered, but  
filled with relief.

Celebross grinned suddenly.

“Where is your Magic Spider Spray, Aralith?”

His brother flushed and glared at him.

“I am certain that I do not know!”

Celebross laughed and reached for a piece of bread, but the basket  
was empty.

“Who ate all the bread?” He asked.

Legolas turned to stare at his own plate. It was also empty. And  
the mist was now half way across Celon o Tinnu.

“Uh…Excuse me.” He said hastily and hurried to get his Magic Bubble  
Pipe.


	13. Dwarven Love Poems and Pipeweed

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Hobbit AU. While the Dwarves are imprisoned in Thranduil's dungeons, Bilbo meets Legolas quite by accident. We find out why Elves don't smoke pipeweed.

“A Rose among thorns is she. Her golden beauty is too sweet to  
behold. My heart will melt for love of her.”

Cuil and Calenthar, who had the duty of checking on the Dwarves this  
day, stood outside Gloin’s cell snickering helplessly. They had heard him  
reciting what sounded vaguely like poetry and had crept nearer to listen.  
But now they were having trouble keeping their mirth within.

“Fairest Elven princess, what could I give thee to be worthy of  
beholding thy beauty? The stars themselves do not compare to you, O fair  
one of Mirkwood.”

Finally the two Elves moved away and collapsed into giggling heaps on  
the stone floor.

“Fairest Elven princess!” Cuil gasped. “’The stars themselves do  
not compare to you!’”

Calenthar sat up, his eyes sparkling brightly.

“’A Rose among thorns is she.’ I don’t think “her” father would like  
to hear himself compared to a thorn, regardless that it is quite apropos at  
times.”

“I think he would be quite, uh…prickly if he heard it!” Cuil  
laughed. “Perhaps we should send her highness down here to speak to the  
poor love smitten thing.”

“In her pink tunic!”

The two were still laughing when there were quiet footsteps in the  
hall behind them.

“What is going on here?”

The two turned to see Tanglinna approaching. They stood hastily,  
straightening their tunics.

“We…um…we were just listening to some Dwarven love poetry.” Cuil  
managed, with a quick grin at Calenthar.

“Dwarven love poetry?”

Tanglinna narrowed his eyes and moved silently to stand outside  
Gloin’s cell.

The Dwarf sat in a shaft of light that fell from the torches in the  
corridor. Dangling from his fingers was a slim braid of golden hair.

“You are the fairest creature that walks the earth and none dare  
gainsay me, my lovely one.”

Tanglinna moved from the cell door, his eyes filled with glee.

“Mayhap we should send Prince Legolas down to serenade him.” He said  
quietly.

“Princess Legolas.” Calenthar choked. “The poor Dwarf would  
probably die in raptures of joy!”

“Where did he get the hair?” Tanglinna queried.

Cuil and Calenthar both shrugged and the Master Archer’s eyes  
suddenly lit with wicked delight.

“I feel rather sorry for this poor deluded Dwarf. Perhaps a present  
would cheer him. Where exactly does Prince Legolas keep his hair brush?”

Calenthar laughed loudly, startling the Dwarves, and ran down the  
corridor toward the prince’s room.

 

 

 

 

Bilbo, who was picking Elvish up rather quickly as he heard it  
everyday, had come up with a plan. He knew he could wander tunnels,  
corridors, rooms and dead ends forever and still not free the Dwarves. As  
for finding a way out of Mirkwood Forest he now knew that was quite  
hopeless. He had become lost once – he was no fool – when he had become  
separated from the hunting party that he was following. So when the plan  
presented itself so nicely he began to act upon it.

Bilbo spent many a day and night silently trailing the youngest  
prince, playing any number of tricks on him: taking food from his plate;  
moving objects from one place to another in his room. He had found the  
Magic Bubble Pipe that someone named Mithrandir had given to Legolas when  
he was a child to protect him from the White Mist Spirit. The pipe was  
really rather clever looking: the stem was long and curved, not unlike  
Bilbo’s own pipe; the bowl was carved to resemble a Dragon’s head, the hole  
where the bubbles erupted was its open mouth. Great slanted eyes were  
painted blue, spiraled horns twined up the stem. The rest of the bowl was  
tinged a paler blue.

: Perhaps this is what old Smaug looks like. : he thought. : I have  
never seen a dragon before. I wonder how big he is. :

Bilbo blew on the pipe and watched as the bubbles floated about the  
room, He flicked one with his finger and was amazed as it popped into many  
tiny bubbles with a musical chime and flew about the room quickly, bouncing  
off the walls and ceiling.

: This is rather nice. :

He blew more bubbles, popping them and making a grand concert in the  
process.

: I wonder who this Mithrandir is. He and old Gandalf should get  
together and sees who’s cleverer. :

“Amlug o i Angol Osp Echor.” Bilbo whispered, holding the delicate  
thing in his hands. “Dragon of the Magic Smoke Rings.” He crossed the  
room and pushed aside the gauzy hanging that fell over the window. It was  
pale green decorated with leaves: darker green ferns, copper oak, and  
golden beech. It seemed the prince preferred a room with an escape  
route. It was a pleasant and airy room and Bilbo quite liked it. He was  
immensely pleased to see an autumn mist beginning to drift over the River  
of Night. Good. This would be the night to put his plan into action. He  
dropped the hanging and tucked the pipe into to his waistcoat, fingers  
plucking at the missing button, then crossed the room and climbed into a  
chair that was tucked into a dark corner.

While he waited he hummed to himself, looking once more at the  
dragonhead pipe.

: I wonder if it is only good for bubbles. :

He blew it experimentally watching the beautiful iridescent bubbles  
issue from the dragon’s mouth. He shrugged, tucked the pipe away once more  
and took out his own pipe.

Later that night as the mist pooled outside Gladaran Thamas, the door  
opened and Legolas entered. He closed the door quietly and moved to look  
out his window. He hastily dropped the hanging and moved across the room  
to fetch his pipe.

: I am glad that no one can see me. : he thought with a wry smile.  
But then he realized the pipe was not where he had left it the night  
before. He frantically glanced about the room, then moved to light a  
candle and hunt in the dark corners. He dropped to his knees by the bed,  
lifting the soft covers and peering beneath it. He threw open his clothes  
chest and drawers; then moved to look beneath the wall hangings and the  
chair Bilbo was seated in, his feet tucked carefully under him.

Bilbo watched with amusement and a slight twinge of regret when worry  
creased the young Elf’s face. But the Dwarves needed him so he drew deeply  
on his pipe, watching the bowl flare red, then blew a thin stream of smoke  
into the air.

Legolas smelled the smoke before he saw it. He turned, brows  
furrowed, frowning. Then he saw a thin white wreath of smoke issue out of  
thin air from the chair in the corner. He stared at it in disbelief. Then  
he glanced uneasily at the window.

“Who is there?” he called, wishing he had his weapons.

More smoke curled toward the ceiling and Legolas swallowed nervously.

“Who are you?”

“I am Silivren Hithlain Man.” Bilbo said in a high-pitched squeaky  
voice. “I have come for you, o youngest royal child.”

The Elf started and staggered a few steps back.

“You…you are nothing but a child’s story. You are not real!”

More fragrant smoke filled the air followed by a high laugh.

“I have come for you, Prince Legolas Greenleaf.”

Bilbo watched as Legolas stared through him and he nearly laughed  
with delight at his trick.

: If only he could see the expression on his face! : he thought with  
a silent chuckle. But this was his undoing. He had been hiding his pipe  
behind his arm and when he had laughed his arm had slipped and the pipe  
became visible for just a second. But Legolas had seen it.

“You are the last Dwarf!” He exclaimed. “The fourteenth! The  
furry footed one! What Dwarf magic is this?” He advanced on the chair,  
his blue eyes flashing fiercely.

“Wait! Wait!” Bilbo cried, hopping up, his pipe now clearly visible  
as he tried to evade the Elf. “Please, just wait, Prince Legolas! Please!  
I will tell you everything. One moment! Ouch!”

Legolas had managed to grab Bilbo’s arm, the one with the pipe  
clenched in its fist.

“Who are you? And what are you doing in my room?”

Bilbo was caught and he knew it, so he carefully slipped his magic  
ring from his finger into the pocket of his waistcoat.

“Oh, bother. Very well then.”

Legolas started again at his sudden appearance, but did not loosen  
his grip. He studied the short curly haired being he held.

“You are not a Dwarf.” he said astutely. “What are you? And why  
are you with those Dwarves? Why are you here in Mirkwood?”

“Good heavens!” Bilbo said with a smile. “You sounded very like  
your father just then. Very impressive, I must say.”

Legolas frowned slightly and shook his head.

“Who are you?” he repeated. “How do you know what my father sounds  
like anyway?”

“I guess you won’t believe me if I said I was Silivren Hithlain Man.”  
Bilbo asked, blue eyes twinkling. “I didn’t think so.”

Legolas’ frown deepened.

“How do you know about Silivren Hithlain Man?”

“My, but you ask a lot of questions! I always thought that you Wood  
Elves were a rather reserved, quiet lot.”

Legolas sighed, his patience such as it was, was wearing away.

“Who are you?” he asked, returning to the original question.

Bilbo smiled once more.

“If you will release my arm this would be so much easier to explain.  
I do believe you are cutting off my circulation.”

The grip on his arm loosened, but he was not released entirely.

“You must give me your word that you won’t try to escape or I will  
take you to my father.”

“Oh, very well.” The Hobbit sighed. “You have my word that I won’t  
try to escape. But you must promise me that you won’t take me to your  
father. He rather scares me, you know.”

Legolas actually smiled.

“He rather scares me at times, too. Very well.” He released his  
hold on Bilbo’s arm and backed away a couple of steps. “Now, who are you?”

Bilbo rubbed his arm slightly.

“You don’t have anything to eat, do you?” he asked with a smile. “I  
am rather hungry!”

 

 

Some time later, a plate lay on the table with only a few crumbs  
attesting to the food once piled on it. Bilbo had taken up his pipe once  
more and was smoking contentedly in the chair. Legolas was seated on the  
floor cross -legged, staring up at him.

“The Shire sounds like a wondrous place.” He said. “I should like  
to visit it one day.”

“I would love to have you anytime. It is a rather nice place and I  
do miss it. This adventure has been something else altogether. I never  
thought I would leave the Shire myself, but when old Gandalf came along -”

“Gandalf? Then you know Mithrandir!”

“Well, no. Can’t say that I do. I know that he made this little  
bubble pipe of yours – oh yes! Here. I forgot I had it. Rather an  
interesting little thing really. Quite fun. So I guess it works? The  
Silivren Hithlain Man has never crept into your room?”

Legolas laughed, taking his pipe.

“Not yet. Mithrandir used Magic Smoke Rings, but mine only makes  
bubbles. Mithrandir is Gandalf.”

“Really? I never would have known. Fancy that! Well, well. He  
does get around. Wonder why he didn’t come with us through your forest  
then.” He shrugged. “He does make marvelous smoke rings. I can make some  
rather nice ones myself.” He puffed his pipe then blew a nice large  
undulating ring.

“That is very nice. I wish I could do that, but –“ Legolas smiled  
wryly, blowing a bubble out of the dragon’s mouth and popping it.

“Here.” Bilbo held out his pipe. “Give it a try on mine.”

“I…I don’t know…”

“Come on. It is really quite fun. Very relaxing.”

“Perhaps father should have one then.” He took the pipe, studying  
its smooth surface then put it to his lips.

“Don’t-!”

But it was too late, the smoke burned down the Elf prince’s throat  
causing him to cough loudly.

“Oh, bother. Don’t try to swallow it. Just- just blow it back out.”

After the coughing fit had passed, Legolas eyed the Hobbit  
suspiciously, then carefully took another puff.

“Blow it out. That is right.” Bilbo instructed.

After a few more tries, Legolas seemed to have gotten the hang of it,  
though he didn’t understand why the Hobbit – and Mithrandir – found this so  
enjoyable.

“Try a smoke ring.” Bilbo suggested, not seeing the slightly dazed  
expression on the Elf’s face, nor how dilated his pupil’s had become, the  
eyes now more black than blue. “Well, that was almost right. Just a  
bit…um…lopsided.”

Legolas tried again, concentrating all his effort into the shape of  
the ring.

“Oh! Look! I did it! I did it!” He took a deep pull on the pipe,  
and in his enthusiasm gulped it down his throat.

Another coughing fit ensued, Bilbo thumping him heartily on the back.  
Between the choking coughs the Hobbit could discern gasps of laughter. He  
shook his head wondering how the Elf could find this amusing.

“Are you alright, Prince Legolas?” he asked as the Elf righted  
himself, his fair face red, but split with a wide grin.

“Yes. Thank you for your concern, Mr. Baggins.” He bowed, as  
gracefully as he could from a sitting position, then giggled again.

Bilbo felt a twinge of unease. The Elf seemed to be acting strangely  
– or was this how Elves acted when they loosened up somewhat.

Legolas was puffing out another smoke ring and admired it as it  
drifted away.

: He does look a bit odd. : Bilbo thought. : I wonder why. :

He couldn’t help but smile as Legolas blew more and more rings into  
the air.

“Silivren Hithlain Man wouldn’t dare to come into your room now.” He  
commented. “It is quite full of smoke.”

Legolas wriggled happily.

“I think I do this as well as Mithrandir himself.” He giggled.  
“Legolas’ Magic Smoke Rings! Maybe I should have kept my sparkly green  
outfit. Then I could be the…um… Legolas the Sparkly Green Wizard!” He  
threw his arms up, scattering ash on the floor.

“Oh! Do be careful, Legolas the Sparkly Green.” Bilbo cautioned,  
stamping on the ashes that landed on the thick green rug nearby. “Um,  
here. Let me take that.” He snagged the pipe just as the Elf flopped back  
onto the floor, an inane grin on his face.

“I think you had better stop for a time. My goodness! I have never  
seen anyone affected by pipeweed in quite this manner.”

There was a discreet knock at the door. Bilbo gulped and slipped on  
his ring, diving with the pipe under the bed.

“Come in, come in.” Mirkwood’s prince sang, waving his fingers in  
the air.

Calenthar peered around the door.

“Oh! Prince Legolas. I didn’t know you were here.”

“Greetings, Calenthar. Aren’t my smoke rings wondrous to behold?”

Calenthar’s eyes widened as he caught sight of the prince sprawled  
happily on the cool stone floor staring up at the ceiling.

“Um, Prince Legolas? What is that smell? You didn’t steal Aralith’s  
Spider Spray, did you?”

“Of course not. I am not afraid of spiders. They are my Magic  
Smoke Rings. Mithrandir couldn’t do them better. Legolas the Sparkly  
Green Wizard and his Magic Smoke Rings.”

Calenthar stared at him in amazement.

“I thought your pipe only blew bubbles, my prince.” He said after a  
moment.

“What? Oh! This!” He picked up the dragon pipe. He maneuvered  
himself to a sitting position and blew into it. Several colorful bubbles  
erupted from the dragon’s mouth. “Oh! They are so pretty! Look at all the  
colors!”

He popped one, watching it burst into smaller bubbles that shot about  
like shooting stars. He giggled and clapped his hands in delight, dropping  
the pipe to the floor.

“Look at them! Look at them! This is so fun!” He fumbled for the  
pipe and blew several more bubbles. “Look! Bilbo, look!”

“Who is Bilbo, my prince?”

“The Dwarf with furry feet. Only he is not really a Dwarf, he is  
only disguised as one. He must be a Wizard as well. He makes marvelous  
smoke rings, too. Though not nearly as good as mine. But –“ Legolas the  
Sparkly Green Wizard collapsed to the floor in a giggling fit.

“Dwarf?” Calenthar frowned. “Aren’t they all in their cells? You  
have not let them out, have you?”

“Poor Dwarves. They must be very sad, all locked up in the dark like  
that…I know! I shall visit them and blow some smoke rings…and bubbles!”  
He brandished his pipe. “They would like that, wouldn’t they, Calenthar?”  
The son of Thranduil climbed awkwardly to his feet and stood swaying, one  
hand grasping Calenthar’s shoulder. “Legolas the Sparkly Green Wizard.”  
He staggered through the door humming, his bubble pipe in one hand.

Calenthar wasn’t certain how alarmed he should be.

“What have you been drinking, my prince?”

“Nothing. Nothing. Aralith was supposed to drink the Morn Nen  
water, but I think we sent it to Elrond instead. I would love to have  
seen his face…”

Calenthar shook his head as Legolas stared back at him with a  
beautiful smile on his face.

“I am sure he looked very funny. Father would just love that!”

“Oh, Calenthar! This clothes will never do!” His face fell. “It’s  
not sparkly at all. And Gwibess has my pretty ones.” He frowned, but then  
a sly smile touched his lips. “I’ll just borrow some of father’s. He has  
more sparkly clothes than anyone I know.”

Now Calenthar did become alarmed.

“No! That…that would not be a good idea, Prince Legolas. You know  
how your father feels about his clothes –“

Legolas waved a negligent hand.

“He won’t mind. He likes to dress us in fancy clothes. He’ll be  
very happy! And to know I have entertained his guests as well – looking  
beautiful of course –“ He smiled. “He will be quite pleased.”

Calenthar wasn’t so certain.

“My prince, I don’t think –“

“It is best if you let me do the thinking.” Legolas moved down the  
hall, humming and blowing bubbles.

Bilbo crept from under the bed and carefully placed his pipe in a  
corner on the stone floor – after puffing on it a couple times.

“Well, at least I shall find the Dwarves, much more easily than I  
thought.” He whispered. :Well. Thank Elbereth for pipeweed! : He  
thought gleefully, skipping down the hall after the two Elves.


	14. Like Father, Like Son

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Hobbit AU. While the Dwarves are imprisoned in Thranduil's dungeons, Bilbo meets Legolas quite by accident. We find out why Elves don't smoke pipeweed.

Earlier that day Gwibess the spider had visitors.  
"What is that?" They queried jealously seeing the beautiful clothing and the sparkling necklace that still hung about her neck.  
"The masters gave them to me. Aren't they pretty?"  
The three other spiders nodded enviously, one reaching out a long furry leg to touch the sparkly green robe.  
"Who are your masters? We have no masters."  
"Let Go Lass, Ta Worm, and Breathe Ill."  
"Do they always give you presents? They don't try to hurt you?"  
"No. They are nice masters. They have never hurt me. The masters are very kind. Look."  
She pulled down one tightly wrapped ball of webbing and tore it open. Inside were several necklaces and gems.  
The others gaped at the treasure and looked at one another.  
"Perhaps we should have masters." They said enviously.  
"We can't be nice to the Elves. They are mean to us." One of them hissed. "They hurt us and kill us!"  
"They are nice masters. Come I will show you how to be nice. Come; come. I know where they keep the Magic Water!"  
The three spiders started after Gwibess, looking quite uncertain about the whole thing.  
"They will give us beautiful things, will they?"  
"Yes. The masters are very kind and good."  
The three looked at one another.  
"If we drink their Magic Water, then they will be kind to us as well?"  
"Yes. The Magic Water is good. Come with me. I know where they hide it."  
The three spiders looked at one another again. They shrugged and followed Gwibess toward Gladaran Thamas.

 

 

Calenthar watched as Prince Legolas dug through his father's clothing, carelessly discarding any he felt were not suitable on the floor behind him. He was humming quite happily, holding up soft shimmering robes and admiring himself in the mirror, then tossing them over his shoulder onto the ever growing pile.  
"My prince? Do you really think this is wise?" He managed to ask, as he hastily bent and began to lay the clothing on the bed.  
"The king is good and wise." Legolas sang, and then laughed. "Good, wise and very, very sparkly." He held up a particularly shimmery green robe and shook it to watch the light dance off it. "Actually I think the Dwarves would like this one. They like sparkling, glittering things like gold and gems. They should be quite impressed with this one! And it is green, Calenthar! Green! Legolas the Sparkly Green! This is the one!" He held it against himself and spun around, then landed unceremoniously on the floor in a laughing heap. "Whoops! The king has slippery clothes!" Giggling he stood, brushing his hair from his face. "Where is Bilbo? I would really like his opinion on this. He knows the Dwarves so much better than I do. Bilbo? Are you here?" He hunted about the room unaware of the alarm that Calenthar was experiencing.  
"Stay right there, Prince Legolas. I ...I will be right back." He fled the room and hurried to fetch Tanglinna. Legolas scarcely heard him as he turned to rummage in another chest, this one containing his father's crowns and circlets. Bilbo was tucked into a corner behind a rather ornately carved chair with a cushioned seat embroidered with tiny red flowers on a dark blue background. He couldn't stop the grin that spread over his face.  
: Reminds me of Little Pip playing at dress up! : he thought, covering his mouth so his mirth wouldn't be heard. : Though she is a young girl and he is a grown Elf! :  
Calenthar ran swiftly down the corridor on silent feet.  
: I wonder where the king is? : he thought frantically. : Please, Elbereth! Don't let him go to his room! I am begging you! : He knew well how Thranduil would react if he found his son in such a condition. Whatever that condition was!  
He ran to the dungeons where Cuil and Tanglinna were awaiting his coming, supposedly with the hairbrush. He skidded to a halt before them.  
"Did you find it?" Cuil asked with a smile.  
Calenthar shook his head, catching his breath.  
"Tanglinna...Prince Legolas...he..."  
Tanglinna's eyes narrowed.  
"What is it now? He didn't tie any squirrels to the giant bats so he could see them fly again, did he?"  
"No. I ...I don't know what is wrong with him. He is acting...strangely."  
Tanglinna scowled deeply and moved away.  
Cuil turned to Calenthar.  
"What happened?" he asked.  
"I know not. He was behaving oddly when I found him."  
"Well...Tanglinna will know what to do. Were Tavor and Brethil with him?"  
"No. He was alone. Though he said something about someone named Bilbo."  
"Bilbo?!" A voice chimed from within the cell. "Where is Bilbo? Have you seen him?"  
The two Elves glanced uneasily at one another.  
"He did say he was a Dwarf. That is - not a Dwarf. And he had furry feet." Calenthar murmured to Cuil.  
"Furry footed Dwarf?" Cuil shook his head. "The king will not be pleased when he hears of this."  
"I'm not telling him." Calenthar snorted, folding his arms over his chest.  
Cuil raised an eyebrow.  
"Well, I haven't seen this Dwarf or the prince. So I know nothing of the matter."  
The two stared at one another and nodded conspiratorially at one another.  
"There is nothing to tell." Cuil concluded. "Nothing at all."

 

 

The moment the older Elf with a spill of silver hair entered the room, Bilbo knew that he was not one to cross or try to fool. The Hobbit remained completely motionless behind the chair, not even aware that he was holding his breath. At that moment it wouldn't have mattered. Tanglinna's sharp eyes went to Legolas who was lying on the floor, one foot wriggling in the air as he struggled to pull on the green boots that just matched the robe. The Master Archer studied him for some time saying nothing, his arms folded across his chest, a smirk on his face. He sniffed the air like a wolf scenting his prey and shook his head. Where had the lad gotten pipeweed? He watched as his prince grunted and tugged at the boot, his foot finally slid in and dropped to the floor with a thunk.  
"Ouch." Legolas lay with his arms thrown over his head for a moment and Tanglinna could hear a low humming coming from his throat.  
"Ahem!" Tanglinna moved farther into the room. "What are you doing this fine evening, Prince Legolas?"  
Legolas rolled his head to stare at the archer. He smiled woozily.  
"Greetings, Tanglinna! Oof!" He pushed himself to a sitting position. "My but your hair looks beautiful in this light. All shiny and ...silver! And...I am doing very well this fine evening."  
Tanglinna's lips twitched as he reached down one hand and pulled the younger Elf to his feet. "I will just bet you are." He said quietly. "Does your father know you are in here playing dress-up?"  
"I am not playing dress-up." Legolas said in an offended voice. "I am just...dressing up. I am Legolas the Sparkly Green. And - oh! Look! Don't I sparkle nicely!" He spun about, his head thrown back, hair fanning out behind him. "Oh! And look! Isn't it just divine!" He staggered across to the bed somewhat dizzily and plucked up an ornate circlet of silver, shaped like oak leaves and dripping with emeralds. He jammed it onto his blonde locks and grinned happily. He sashayed over to the mirror and stared dreamily at his reflection.  
"What have you been doing this fine evening, my prince?" Tanglinna repeated.  
"I look so pretty, Tanglinna. The Dwarves will be so happy to see me!"  
Tanglinna had a choice to make. He could either escort the prince down to his room and tuck him into bed with a strong cup of Vandal Root tea or - He smiled.  
"Come, my prince. The Dwarves await."  
"Wait! Wait! My pipe! I can't forget my pipe!"  
"Your pipe?" Tanglinna's eyebrows rose.  
Legolas dug through the pile of clothing on the bed until he had located his pipe.  
"Amlug o i Angol Osp Echor." He smiled, turning shining blue eyes on the Master Archer. "They are going to love me." He said, blowing a bubble.  
"They already do, my prince. They already do."  
He took Legolas' arm and steered him toward the doorway. In his mind's eye Tanglinna could see another Elf twirling dizzily about a clearing in a new kingdom founded in Greenwood the Great, blue eyes dazed and happy as he tried to dance with a rather surprised captive Goblin, the smell of an unusual leaf from the west drifting on the air. Tanglinna's green eyes shone.  
"Like father, like son." He murmured and laughed.  
Legolas joined him completely oblivious as to why they were laughing.  
"Like father, like son." He repeated, then blew some bubbles into the air.

 

 

Thranduil, who had been feeling rather badly about imprisoning the Dwarves for no good reason, had been heading down the hallway, thinking that perhaps he should just let the Dwarves go. Have them escorted to the edge of Mirkwood - blindfolded of course - and let them travel on their merry way to where ever it was they were headed. He had drunk several glasses of rather nice wine made by Men in distant lands and felt rather magnanimous. Yes, it would look very good to let them go. After all what had they truly done, other than stir up the spiders. And everyone knew that it didn't take much to get the spiders started. Dreadful, horrid beasts! And as for those few that thought that his son was a girl - well, it was the fault of that awful pink tunic. And who could blame the Dwarves. Surely none of their women could rival any Elf, male or female. He had even heard a rumor that Dwarven ladies had beards to rival their men's. Yes, he should let them go. It was irritating to feed them any way. He sang quietly under his breath as he neared his room. He was only mildly surprised to see his door standing open. He eased into the room and stopped dead in his tracks, the words of his song dying in his throat.  
Four spiders were in his room, trying on his clothing, which lay scattered about in great disarray. They were chattering at one another happily, fondling the silky materials, rubbing it against their faces and ...purring?  
Thranduil stared at them, his eyes widening in shock that was swiftly turning to anger. His face reddened and his fists clenched.  
"Get out!" he hissed, advancing on them, looking about for his sword. "GET OUT!!"  
The spiders jumped surprised at the loud voice so close behind them.  
"Who is that?" One asked, dropping a scarlet robe in surprise.  
"Is that one of the Masters?"  
"No." Gwibess hissed, hastily snatching a violet robe that she favored. "It is the loud one, Thrumb Dumb. Hurry, we must go. Hurry!"  
The four spiders, snatching at garments ran hastily past the Elven King, who stood sputtering impotently at them. He glared after them, then turned to his room. His beautiful clothing was thrown about carelessly, his chests and trunks standing open. He breathed harshly through his mouth, preparing himself for a shout that would shake the very foundations of the palace and everyone in it.  
"LEGOLAS!!!"  
In the secret corridor that Gwibess had shown the others, the spiders cowered down, throwing their garments over their heads in fear.  
"He is a bad one, he is." Gwibess whispered. "Very noisy!"  
In the dungeons the Dwarves shook and wondered what had befallen now. Surely Smaug himself must be attacking. Bilbo jumped in spite of himself, holding tightly to the finger that his ring encircled. :Here we go again. : he thought. And the Elves of Mirkwood cringed wondering what the prince had done this time. Tanglinna smiled eagerly looking forward to the fireworks that would were coming. And Legolas merely blew a bubble.  
"Uh oh." he sang. "I'm in trouble." He reached up and popped his bubble, giggling.


	15. Golden Locks of a Warrior

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Hobbit AU. While the Dwarves are imprisoned in Thranduil's dungeons, Bilbo meets Legolas quite by accident. We find out why Elves don't smoke pipeweed.

The four spiders crouched in the tunnel listening as Thrumb Dumb  
stormed down the hall muttering about Let Go Lass.

"He is not nice to my masters." Gwibess said with a hiss of dislike.  
"He is always yelling at them. He doesn't like them to give me presents.  
He likes to keep all the pretty things for himself."

"What have you done about him?"

"Done? What do you mean?" The rather innocent Gwibess asked.

"If you don't like him, why don't you do something to show him how  
you feel?"

"Let Go Lass is his ion! He wouldn't like that!"

"Ion? What is that?" Remmith asked.

"Someone he can do mean things to, just for fun." Gwibess hissed  
seriously.

"He is not nice." Cablas said, his eyes flashing. "We should do  
something. If he is not nice to the masters then we should protect them."

He waved his long front legs about menacingly, his pincers flashing.

Gwibess looked worried and wondered if she had made a mistake in  
bringing them here.

"No.no."She began, her crimson eyes glowing. "They would not like  
that. He is their Aran."

"What is that?" Remmith asked, eyeing her sparkly necklace and  
wondering when he would get one himself.

"He is the one who yells the loudest, so he is their leader."

Cablas glanced at Hiwdil and grinned. Hiwdil winked four of his  
eyes.

"Don't worry, Gwibess. We will take care of him" The two spiders  
disappeared down the tunnel, hissing quietly at one another.

Gwibess watched them go with a feeling of dread apprehension.

"Where are they going?" She hissed at Remmith.

Remmith shrugged, reaching out to fondle the sparkling stones at  
Gwibess' throat.

"So, Gwibess. Where are my new masters?"

 

 

Brethil and Tavor had been at their homes when Thranduil had roared  
for his son, but word of it soon reached them. They met at a tall beech  
tree where the three had once built their own tree house. They stared at  
one another in silence for a moment. Finally Brethil spoke.

"What has he done do you suppose?" His eyes were wide. "We didn't  
have anything to do with it. Did we?"

"Of course not." Tavor retorted, though he found himself going over  
everything that had happened that day. But he could think of nothing that  
should call the king's wrath down on them. Again. "Of course not." He  
repeated. "He has done this by himself." He snorted. "I wonder what  
outfit he will have to wear this time."

Brethil was feeling rather sorry for his friend and frowned.

"We had better go see what happened." He said, turning toward the  
palace. "He may need our help. Or at least some moral support."

Tavor hesitated, his brows knitting.

"Um.perhaps we should wait a few moments. Let things die down a  
bit."

"Tavor! He may need our help." Brethil repeated his eyes narrowed  
in unaccustomed anger. "He needs us!" He turned abruptly and walked away.

Tavor stared after him in amazement, then shrugged.

"I will be so glad when those Dwarves leave. There has been nothing  
but trouble since they arrived." He muttered and moved reluctantly after  
Brethil.

 

 

Gloin felt rather hopeful after hearing the name Bilbo spoken by the  
Elves outside his cell. Was Bilbo here as well then? Was he a prisoner,  
too? That would not be so good, but the Hobbit had proved to be quite  
resourceful in the past and the Dwarf knew he would probably be able to do  
something about their predicament. Gloin had picked up some Elvish, not  
much, but more than he thought he would ever learn.

: Perhaps: he thought with a happy sigh. :If I learned enough Elvish  
I could compose a song for the maiden:

It would, after all, give him something to do during his captivity.  
He wondered how the others were faring and he wondered about Thorin. He  
hoped their leader was here and not still wandering about the woods,  
starved and lost. Or inside a spider's belly. He shuddered. No, best not  
to think that at all.

He sat humming in the darkness. It was a song that he had heard  
Elves singing as they passed by his cell on their way to another part of  
the palace. It had a rather jolly tune and though he didn't understand the  
words much he could mimic them rather nicely.

"Roll - roll - roll - roll  
roll-roll-rolling down the hole!  
Heave ho! Splash plump!  
Down they go, down they bump!"

He sang it a little louder, liking the feel of the strange words on  
his tongue.

The two Elves outside the cells looked up startled.

"What is that one singing?" Calenthar said, turning to Cuil.

The older Elf smiled.

"The barrel song!" he exclaimed. "Where did he learn that?"

Calenthar laughed merrily.

"This has been one rather strange night, has it not?"

"And will get stranger still."

They both turned to see Tanglinna coming down the torch lit hall  
toward them. The tall silver haired archer was grinning like a cat that  
had eaten all the cream, and Cuil and Calenthar wondered what this boded.  
A couple seconds later Prince Legolas came tripping lightly to join them.

"Greetings, Cuil! Greetings, Calenthar! Oops!" He slipped on the  
end of the long robe - Thranduil was slightly taller than his son - and  
grinned, sweeping a graceful bow at them. The ornate circlet slid on his  
locks and he grabbed at it, giggling. "Oopsies!"

Cuil's eyes widened in rather horrified surprise at the sight.

"Um.Tanglinna?"

The Master Archer gazed at him, eyes bright.

"He has come to serenade the Dwarves."

Cuil's brows rose.

"Is that wise?"

"The king is wise and good." Legolas sang. "Or is it good and wise?  
Where are they? My admirers." He moved passed the two guards and peered  
into Gloin's cell. "Oh! It is you!" he gasped in Westron. " 'Fair as a  
rose in May'."

Gloin looked up and stared in amazement at the vision outside his  
cell. He had not been the one to liken the fair Elf maiden to a rose in  
May - that had been Balin. But he cared not. She was here talking to him.

"Greetings, Master Dwarf."

The voice was deeper than Gloin had expected and for a moment doubt  
assailed him. He had imagined Elf maidens as having fair high voices. But  
perhaps he was wrong. It was a very pleasant voice, fair in its own way.  
What cared he if it wasn't exactly what he had expected. Dwarf maidens had  
rather gruff voices after all.

:Nay: he thought. :They were mistaken. This is a maiden:

"I have come to sing to you." Legolas continued, smiling sweetly.

"Oh! And this!" He blew a few bubbles into the cell. "Aren't they very  
nice?"

Gloin watched with growing puzzlement at the shining orbs of soap.  
One popped on his nose and a small chime sounded. His eyes widened and he  
reached a stubby, calloused finger to pop another. He smiled and Legolas  
laughed with delight. Gloin turned to him and tugged off his rather  
forlorn white hood. His heart was playing a merry tune in his chest and he  
felt so happy and honored that he smiled widely.

"You came to sing to me?"

"How are you faring, Master Dwarf?" Blue eyes sparkled and shone in  
the dim light, showing concern for the prisoner held so cruelly by his  
father.

It touched Gloin's heart as not much else had - or would - in his  
life.

"Your father has been very gracious, my lady.' He answered, bowing,  
his hood in his hands.

"My lady!" Legolas snorted and fell to giggling once more.

Gloin was enchanted with the fair laughter. She was smiling at him -  
at him a Dwarf! - eyes lovely and bright. He bowed once more.

"Gloin at your service."

"Legolas the Sparkly Green at yours." He bowed, banging his head on  
the cell door. "Ouch!" He pushed the wayward circlet back into place.

Calenthar and Cuil exchanged worried glances.

"Tanglinna - " Cuil began.

"Let him get it out of his system, Cuil." The Master Archer grinned,  
leaning negligently against the wall, arms crossed over his chest. "I'll  
put him to bed in a bit."

Calenthar glanced nervously at his companion.

"Where is the king?" he whispered.

Cuil shrugged and wondered the same thing remembering the muffled  
echoes of a shout heard earlier.

"I know not, but as long as he is not where we are we will be fine."

"Legolas." Gloin breathed. "The Sparkly Green." Elves did have  
rather strange names. "I am pleased to meet you, Princess Legolas."

"Princess Legolas!" the "princess" snorted with delight and turned  
to look at Tanglinna. "He called me "princess"." He broke into a fit of  
laughter, dropping to the floor in a green heap, his heavy circlet askew  
once more, the emeralds tinkling against one another musically.

Bilbo crept into this hall clinging to the shadows. He noted the  
doors of the cells and felt a moment's elation. He wondered how many of  
the Dwarves were here. The corridor continued down into darkness, a place  
the Hobbit had not explored before. He moved quietly to the darkest corner  
and sat down to wait. He had learned patience if nothing else here.

: Poor Prince Legolas! : he thought, shaking his head. : If I had  
known pipeweed would do this to him I would never have offered it! Wood  
Elves are very strange indeed. :

His eyes went to Tanglinna, who seemed more amused than he should be.

"You had better sing to the Dwarves, nin caun. [my prince] It grows  
late."

Legolas pushed himself up and straightened his green robes, then  
smiled beatifically.

"Of course." He turned to Gloin once more. "Do you have any  
requests?"

"Anything that comes from your silver throat will be glorious to my  
ears."

Legolas stared at him in wonder.

"Isn't that just the sweetest thing he could say? You have a golden  
tongue yourself, Master Gloin."

Gloin flushed with pleasure and lowered his eyes, smiling.

: She said my name. : he thought with deepest wonder and honor.

"Do you know a song we could sing together perchance?" Legolas  
asked. "Let him out!" He told Calenthar and Cuil. "Now." He glared  
imperiously at them when they hesitated.

They looked to Tanglinna who shrugged. What could one Dwarf do after  
all.

Cuil shook his head and pulled out the keys, unlocking Gloin's cell.

The Dwarf couldn't believe this was happening and stepped shyly into  
the hall to stand gazing up at his maiden. Her eyes were so bright,  
unnaturally bright he thought. But her beauty was overwhelming to him. He  
flushed again and dropped his eyes to the grey stone of the floor, wringing  
his hood in his hands.

"Are there any of our songs that you know, Master Gloin?"

"There .there is only one." He stammered. "Though I know not  
exactly what it might mean."

"What is it?" Legolas blew more bubbles, popping them and filling  
the air with music.

Gloin cleared his throat and sang the first part of the one song he  
knew from Mirkwood.

"The barrel song!" Legolas exclaimed. "I like that one! Let's sing  
it."

Two rather diverse voices filled the air beneath Gladaran Thamas:  
one deep and gruff; one fair and clear.

"Roll - roll - roll - roll -  
roll - roll - rolling down the hole!  
Heave ho! Splash plump!  
Down they go, down they bump!"

Tanglinna laughed soundlessly as he watched the impromptu duet. Even  
Calenthar and Cuil were trying not to burst into helpless mirth. Bilbo sat  
in his corner and clamped one hand over his own mouth, his eyes twinkling  
with amusement. This was something he would never forget!

At the end of the , which they sang many times, Legolas turned  
glowing eyes to the Dwarf.

"That was wonderful."

The applause of the watching Elves and the listening Dwarves who were  
still trying to figure out what was going on, filled the hallway and echoed  
off the stone ceiling.

Legolas made a graceful bow. Gloin turned red and managed to bend at  
his waist.

"Thank you." The Elf prince said. "Thank you." He turned to the  
Dwarf. "You have a very nice voice, rather like stone singing. If stone  
sings. Does it?"

Gloin stared up at him in some confusion. What was she speaking of?  
Stone singing.

But then Legolas bent and threw his arms about the stunned Dwarf.

"You are rather a sweet thing." He said straightening. "Is there  
anything that I can do for you, Master Gloin?"

The Dwarf was still reeling from the embrace. She did smell good,  
though both Balin and Nori were wrong. It wasn't roses or honeysuckle as  
they supposed. It was something more elusive than that. More like lilacs.  
Being emboldened by her graciousness, he bowed, and dared to kiss her  
slim pale hand.

"Nothing, my lady, unless it might be - unless it is permitted to  
ask, nay to name a single lock of your fair hair, which surpasses the gold  
of the earth as the stars surpass the gems of the mine."

Bilbo started suddenly.

: Oh, poor Gloin! : he thought. : He will never learn. :

Legolas stared at the Dwarf.

"Have you ever heard anything asked so beautifully?" he said,  
drawing a slender ornamental dagger from the belt at his waist. It was  
encrusted with small white stones and the end set with a single emerald.

"Prince Legolas! What are you doing?" Cuil said, standing straight,  
his eyes worried.

"He asked a lock of my hair which surpasses the gold of the earth.  
Isn't that so lovely?" He grasped the warrior braid dangling at his left  
ear.

"No! Prince Legolas not that!"

"Why not it is my hair!"

"My prince." Tanglinna finally stepped forward, one hand raised to  
stop him.  
It was then that Thranduil entered, his face still full of anger. He  
halted abruptly, his eyes taking in the scene before him: Cuil and  
Calenthar looking stricken; Tanglinna moving toward Legolas, who stood with  
one braid clasped in slender fingers, a dagger held to slice it off; and a  
Dwarf looking positively love sick!

"What is this!?" He demanded. "Someone had better -!"

Just then Brethil and Tavor came round the corner at a dead run and  
Brethil bumped into the king sending him flying forward. Tanglinna gasped  
and moved to break his fall, bumping Legolas' arm.

Thranduil grunted as Tanglinna caught him, and prevented a rather  
embarrassing spill to the floor. He stood, eyes blazing as he turned to  
look at Brethil and Tavor.

Tavor knew he was dying this time. His heart had stopped.

Brethil just stood staring at Thranduil his mouth hanging open.

"I am so sorry." He began to stammer when they heard Legolas say:

"Here is your lock of hair, Master Gloin. With my compliments." And  
he handed the dazed Dwarf his warrior braid.

 

 

 

 

Author's Notes

The Barrel Song is in the Hobbit and is sung by the Wood Elves of Mirkwood.  
I thought it a rather silly song for Thranduil's Elves to sing, but since  
Master Tolkien himself said they did, then they did!

When Gloin asks for a lock of Legolas' hair this is almost a direct quote  
from FOTR. I think you know when!! Gimli's skilled tongue had to come  
from somewhere!


	16. The Morning After

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Hobbit AU. While the Dwarves are imprisoned in Thranduil's dungeons, Bilbo meets Legolas quite by accident. We find out why Elves don't smoke pipeweed.

Prince Legolas Greenleaf was having the strangest dreams. There had  
been Dwarves; Dragons blowing bubbles; a Dwarf with furry feet smoking like  
a fiend; his father falling ungracefully to the floor; Tanglinna with a  
look of alarm on his face; Tavor looking as though he were dying; Brethil  
muttering over and over "I am so sorry"; a knife slicing off his hair. And  
a large spider also apologizing about something: "Master, I am so sorry!  
I tried to stop them!" He groaned, his eyes focusing with difficulty as he  
fought off sleep. He blinked blearily and stared at his ceiling. He felt  
rather unusual. Odd. Well, wondrous strange really. He swallowed in a  
dry throat and grimaced. Had he been ill? He couldn't remember being ill.  
Lethargy held him in its grip and it was with a heaving groan and a push  
that he managed to sit up. He sat staring at the thick carpet beneath his  
bare feet, his eyes having trouble focusing. He ran a hand over his face  
and shook his head. It almost felt as if he had drunk rather too strong a  
cup of Vandal Root tea. Maybe he had been ill. He sighed and pushed off  
the bed. It was then that he saw Tavor and Brethil staring at him from  
across the room.

"What are you two doing here?" He grumped, scowling as he staggered  
slightly to pour cool water from a silver pitcher into a large bowl on the  
dresser.

The two exchanged cautious glances.

"How.how are you feeling?" Brethil asked, his pale grey eyes wide  
with concern.

"Horrible." Mirkwood's prince growled and splashed water on his  
face.

"We should have taken out the mirror!" Brethil hissed, suddenly  
aware of the silvered glass on the dresser.

"Shut up, Brethil." Tavor hissed back, thumping him on the arm.

"But -"

"Shut up!"

Legolas turned to them, his eyes narrowed in anger.

"Will you both shut up!" He snapped and reached for the soft towel.

His friends glanced at one another again, both looking rather  
distressed.

"I told you that you made it too strong!" Brethil accused a little  
too loudly.

"Brethil!"

Legolas turned to glare at Tavor.

"What did you do to me?" His voice was low and full of menace. He  
dropped the towel back to the dresser.

Tavor's eyes widened and he took a step back.

"Well, you see, it wasn't really my idea. Actually Tanglinna rather  
suggested it."

Legolas advanced on him slowly, teeth bared in a feral snarl.

"Legolas! Wait! It was for your own good! Please, I was just doing  
it to help you!" Tavor backed away, hands held imploringly in front of  
him.

"What did you do to me?"

"It was just Vandal Root tea. Truly. To help you sleep! Please!"

Legolas hands loosened and he frowned. He sighed and ran a hand over  
his hair.

"Why did you give me Vandal Root tea? I wasn't ill, was I?"

Tavor glanced at Brethil.

"Well, not exactly. You see -"

"Shut up, Brethil." Tavor interjected quickly. "You weren't sick,  
Legolas. The effects should wear off soon. Why don't you come with us to  
breakfast?"

Legolas blinked and grimaced again. He hated the way it felt when  
Vandal Root wore off. And he was hungry, so he moved back to the dresser.

"That sounds good." He began to rummage through his clothing.

"You see, Tavor. He didn't even notice."

"Brethil!"

Legolas turned back to them, a shirt dangling from one hand.

"Notice what?" The dangerous note was back in his voice.

Tavor shut his eyes and shook his head. Would this never end?!

Brethil stood with his mouth slack, blinking rapidly.

"Um.that is.You look fine really. You can hardly tell! Truly, it is  
hardly noticeable at all! And you don't look so much like a pretty  
princess."

"Brethil! Will you never shut up!" Tavor rounded on him and stared  
at him in stunned disbelief. "You just don't know when to stop, do you!"

"What are you talking about?" Legolas demanded, his anger rising once  
again. "What do you mean it is hardly noticeable? What is hardly  
noticeable? And I don't look like a princess!" He spun and went to the  
mirror and stared at his reflection to see what was amiss. His face seemed  
a bit peaked, but that was the tea. His eyes seemed a bit vacant, but  
again the tea. He shook his head. There were no marks of any kind marring  
his fair face, so what did they mean? He was about to turn back to them,  
certain they were playing some sort of trick on him, when he saw it.

On the left side of his head, hair stuck out at an odd angle. His  
eyes widened in horror and he leaned against the dresser, his face almost  
touching the mirror's cold surface. He was breathing harshly through his  
mouth, trembling fingers reaching up to touch the shorn hairs.

"No.no." he murmured, looking in shock at what he saw. His warrior  
left warrior braid was gone! "nonononononono....."

"He's seen it." Brethil said quietly, a look of concerned distress  
on his fair face.

"He wouldn't have if you had kept quiet!"

"It isn't my fault he cut it off!"

Legolas turned to regard them, eyes huge.

"What did you say?"

"Don't you remember, Legolas?" Brethil said. "You cut it off and  
gave it to that Dwarf."

As many shrieks and bellows as had rung in the Hall of King Thranduil  
over the ages, very few ever impressed his subjects. But for many years to  
come they would remember the cries this day. As Legolas yelled in  
disbelief and mortification at one end of the Hall, King Thranduil looked  
in his own mirror and his own scream shoke the very foundations of Gladaran  
Thamas.

 

 

Legolas was staring into the mirror trying not to cry. His fingers  
were tangled in the short, mutilated strands of blonde hair, his eyes  
forlorn.

"I would not have done this." He repeated for the hundredth time.

"I would not do this. I would not cut off my braid. I would not cut off  
my braid!"

Tavor felt highly uncomfortable with the entire situation and didn't  
know what to do. Brethil had joined Legolas at the dresser, a comforting  
hand laid on his shoulder.

"It will grow out in time, Legolas. It is hair after all. You look  
fine. No one will notice. Or not very much. They will pretend they don't  
notice anyway. They may stare at first, but then they will pretend not to  
see it."

"Shut up, Brethil!" Tavor exclaimed, staring at him in sheer  
disbelief.

"What is the problem, Tavor? I am trying to comfort him. He was  
very stupid last night and needs a friend who understands."

Tavor snorted.

"You understand being stupid very well, Brethil. Of that I am  
certain."

Legolas raised stricken eyes to his friends.

"What else did I do?" He asked, distress biting through him once  
more. "It can't be worse than this!" He turned to the mirror once more,  
praying to Elbereth that his reflection would have changed from what it was  
just seconds ago. "My braid." He moaned. "My Warrior Braid. What have I  
done!" He had been so proud the day he had received his Warrior's braids  
and had felt his child's intricate braid being loosed for the last time.

"I would not have done this."

"Well, you can think of it this way, Legolas." Brethil said,  
comfortingly patting his shoulder. "You made that Dwarf very happy."

Legolas turned to look at him.

"What? The Dwarf?" Then slowly Brethil's earlier words surfaced:  
"Don't you remember, Legolas? You cut it off and gave it to that Dwarf."  
The Elf prince felt all the air squeeze from his lungs. "I.I gave it to a  
Dwarf?"

"Yes. Don't you recall? The one who thought you were a princess.  
You thought it was rather funny at the time." Brethil smiled, remembering  
what Cuil and Calenthar had told them of the strange night below the Hall.

"Cuil said you laughed quite a lot and thought the Dwarf had a golden  
tongue and was quite a sweet thing. You even sang together. I wish I had  
heard you."

With every word that passed from Brethil's lips Legolas felt himself  
loosing touch with reality. This was impossible.

"That cannot be true." He murmured, trying to convince himself of  
that. But the snatches from his "dreams" kept trickling into his memory.  
"Legolas the Sparkly Green." He whispered, the words catching in his  
throat. He shook his head, denying what he now knew was not dream stuff,  
but memories. "No. It cannot be true. It cannot."

"Are you remembering it now? Well, we were coming to aid you when we  
heard that your father yelled at you. But I.um.guess." He glanced at  
Tavor as he remembered uncomfortably their part in this. "We should have  
stayed home. When I ran into your father and he nearly fell, well.Tavor  
nearly died. He said his heart stopped. And well, the look on your  
father's face nearly killed me as well. He was so angry and when you  
sliced off your braid." He shook his head and laughed slightly. "I wonder  
what your father is going to do to us."

Legolas barely heard him as he stared at his forlorn reflection.

As if on cue the door slammed open and Thranduil entered. His  
magnificent eyes were bright with great anger and indignation. His fists  
were clenched tightly at his side, his golden hair in glorious disarray.

:I will die this time: Tavor thought, his eyes wide. :I will really  
die this time. I wonder what that feels like? It can't be any worse than  
what I am feeling now. I have never felt worse than this. Never in my  
life. It must be rather nice in the Halls of Mandos. Nice and quiet. Not  
like here at all. Perhaps it will be nice to die:

"Stop looking in that mirror, little Greenleaf!" Thranduil ordered.

"But Father, I look - "

"AND HOW DO I LOOK!!" He roared.

Legolas turned to look at his father. His mouth dropped open and he  
blinked rapidly several times. Thranduil's handsome face had been rather  
skillfully made up, his cheeks touched with red, the eyelids a rich blue.  
His lips were painted a deep crimson. He looked rather beautiful in an  
overdone sort of way.

"You.you." Legolas began, his hair forgotten for the moment.

"I WHAT?!" Thranduil growled loudly.

Legolas' voice when it finally dislodged from his throat was small  
and tremulous.

"You look like a princess?"


	17. Polishing Gems and Remmith's New Master

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Hobbit AU. While the Dwarves are imprisoned in Thranduil's dungeons, Bilbo meets Legolas quite by accident. We find out why Elves don't smoke pipeweed.

Tavor and Brethil followed Legolas down the hallway. The three were  
unusually subdued and they hadn't spoken for some time. Thranduil had  
pronounced his punishment and had gone to try and get the berry juice the  
spiders had used off his face.

"This.this really isn't going to be all that bad." Brethil finally  
said, a half hopeful smile on his lips. "How long could it possibly take  
to polish your father's jewels? Even he can't have that many.

Legolas shot a disbelieving glance at him and shook his head.  
Fingers reached to touch the short hair, which he had tried to tame into  
place with water.

"Where did you get the pipeweed, Legolas? Your room positively reeks  
of it." Tavor commented, somewhat relieved that he was still alive and not  
in the Halls of Mandos.

Legolas wondered where the Hobbit was. He had already decided that  
it would be in his own best interest to keep quiet. He was in enough  
trouble already and telling his father that yet another unwanted visitor  
was freely roaming the halls of Gladaran Thamas would only serve to get him  
into even more of a tangle than he was already in.

"Ai, Valar." He moaned as they came to the huge oaken door set with  
iron locks and hinges. "It will take us an Age to do this."

Iavas stood outside the door swinging the large key ring around his  
finger. He smiled when he saw them.

"Welcome to King Thranduil's Gem Room." He greeted them with a grin  
and unlocked the great door.

"You are being silly, Legolas. How long could it possibly take?"

Brethil repeated. "How many sparkly gems could your father possibly have?"

Iavas smirked and shoved open the door.

"The cloths for polishing are in a chest just inside the door." He  
grinned again, patted Tavor's shoulder and moved down the corridor. "Oh!  
And Prince Legolas. I love what you have done with your hair." He laughed  
merrily and moved away, singing the barrel song.

Legolas stared after him in dismay, fingers straying once more to his  
shorn hair. He groaned.

"Does everyone know what happened?"

"If they don't by now, I am sure they will soon." Tavor said  
dismally. "Let's get started. This will probably take all day. Your  
father has more gems than - Great Valar!"

The three stood staring wide eyed into the Gem Room. It was vast.  
Boxes of every size and description littered the stone floor. Shelves had  
been hewn into the walls and boxes resided on them as well. Everything  
seemed well ordered, not thrown into a messy heap like a Dragon's Hoard  
would be, but the room was so huge that they could not discern the far wall  
in the dimness. At least they assumed there was a far wall.

"Valar." Legolas breathed. "It will take us three Ages to do this!  
And to think he collects more and more because he fears he has the smallest  
hoard of all the Elven Lords."

Even Brethil looked daunted.

"He must have more jewels than anyone!" He gasped. "How many boxes  
do you suppose there are? There must be thousands of them! How many gems  
are in each box I wonder. I would bet that no one has ever counted them  
all. I would guess -"

"Shut up, Brethil!" Tavor and Legolas both snapped.

"What? I was merely commenting that -"

We know, Brethil." Legolas sighed and shook his head. "We had  
better get started. Ai, Valar."

The three were soon seated on the chill floor, boxes of sparkling  
stones - some set in of silver or gold, some not - polishing away as  
quickly as they could. When they had first begun they had exclaimed and  
joked over some of the more spectacular stones, but even that soon grew  
wearisome. They did their work in near silence.

Brethil began to hum, low and quiet at first as he polished a rather  
large amethyst. Then he began to sing to himself, his voice fair and  
merry.

"Down the swift dark stream you go  
Back to lands you once did know!  
Leave the halls and caverns deep,  
Leave the northern mountains steep,  
Where the forest wide and dim  
Stoops in shadow grey and grim!"

"I wish the Dwarves would leave the halls and caverns deep and the  
northern mountains steep." Tavor snorted. "All of this is their fault."

Legolas glanced at him and shrugged.

"Things have certainly been - interesting - since they showed up. I  
think we are cursed." His fingers strayed to where his braid should have  
been. "I look ridiculous. It will take years for this to grow out. Are  
you sure I gave it to that Dwarf?"

"Oh, yes. We saw that part!" Brethil said, his eyes shining as he  
remembered. "It was so sweet really, now that I think about it. Of course  
at the time I was so terrified because I had run into your father. My, his  
eyes flashed with fury then! He scares me, Legolas."

"Well, he doesn't scare me." Tavor stated boldly, holding up a  
sapphire necklace to see if it were sparkling enough. "He is just as bad  
as we are, truly. He is immature as well, yelling like a spoiled child  
when things don't go his way. And punishing us like this for things that  
weren't really our fault. He -"

"I what, Tavor?"

Tavor gave a strangled cry at the voice behind them in the doorway  
and he dropped the necklace to the floor, his fingers suddenly numb.

Legolas turned to his father, fearing for his friend. Usually it was  
Brethil who spoke without thinking, though Brethil's comments were harmless  
and not snide as Tavor's had been.

Thranduil had scrubbed his face free of the "spider stuff" on his  
face, though his lips and cheeks seemed a bit too pink and blue still clung  
on his lids in a line just above his eyelashes.

Brethil's eyes were huge as he stared up at the king. The three  
hastily stood.

"Sire, I am so sorry." Tavor began, his heart thumping uncomfortably  
in his chest. "I truly did not know you were there. If I had - "

Thranduil merely stared at him with narrowed eyes.

"You wouldn't have insulted me by calling me immature and spoiled?  
No. I think not."

Tavor squirmed uncomfortably, knowing that those in the Halls of  
Mandos were expecting him at any moment.

"I am so sorry." He repeated. "I don't know what to say. I -"

"Then don't say anything! Learn to keep your mouth shut! And pick  
up my necklace!"

Tavor nodded and hastily bent to retrieve the abused sapphire.

Thranduil stared at the three of them, his eyes resting on Legolas  
last. If he hadn't been feeling so angry this morning he would have felt  
sorry for him. Legolas stared at his father forlornly, and then dropped  
his gaze to the floor, biting at his lips. His fingers twitched, but he  
didn't reach for his hair. The king shook his head in absolute frustration  
at this situation that had seemed to escalate to such a dizzying height  
that he was still reeling from all that had happened since those Dwarves  
had appeared at his front door as it were.

"Tanglinna!" He snapped and turned as the Master Archer entered the  
room.

Legolas had never seen such a carefully schooled stony expression on  
the older Elf's face before. He was still rather angry with him for what  
had happened lsat night. He hoped that his father had really let him have  
it. He glared at Tanglinna who merely shrugged slightly and smirked.

"Tanglinna is going to be joining you in your little task. We shall  
see who is "amused" by it when you are finished." Thranduil said with a  
harsh glance at Tanglinna.

The older Elf cringed slightly, remembering his no so carefully  
chosen words of explanation the night before.

Thranduil narrowed his eyes.

"And if even one gem, one necklace, trinket or bauble is missing when  
you are finished here, you will be stripped of your Warrior braids and made  
to wear your hair in a child's braid until whatever is missing has been  
found!"

"But how would you know if something was missing?" Brethil asked. "Truly  
your Majesty," He glanced about him at the boxes. "Even you can't know  
everything that you have."

Thranduil studied him, a sneer marring his lips.

"I know every last piece of jewelry and every last gemstone that I  
own. I can tell you where they are in here and where I got them. And when  
I got them. And if anything is missing." He glared at them sternly and  
with that he whirled about and stalked away.

The four Elves stood in silence for a moment.

"Well, how was I to know that." Brethil said in exasperation as the  
others' gazes rested on him.

"So you are part of our punishment, are you, Tanglinna?" Tavor  
asked, feeling relief well in him. Thranduil hadn't killed him and hadn't  
said anything about killing him. Perhaps he would live after all.

"Perhaps you are my punishment." The Master Archer commented  
snidely. "Having to spend interminable hours in here with the three of you  
for company is torture indeed. And well his Majesty knows it."

"The king is good and wise." Legolas murmured, then he burst into  
helpless laughter.

The others stared at him in amazement. But then they all realized  
how silly this whole thing was and joined him.

A while later as all four sat on the floor polishing, Brethil looked  
up and wiped his brow.

"I have just had a thought." He said brightly. "The spiders should  
come and help us. They have all those legs after all, they could get this  
done quite quickly."

All three of them turned to him and stared. Spiders in here? With  
Thranduil's gems? And not the smallest trinket was to be missing at the  
end of it? The spiders?

"Shut up, Brethil!" They all said and threw their polishing rags at  
him.

"What did I say?" He queried in annoyance. "It was just a thought!  
Honestly, I don't understand any of you at times. You would think that I  
said something stupid."

 

 

Remmith had been wandering the corridors, skillfully avoiding any of  
the inhabitants. He had slipped into one darkened room to wait as several  
Elves walked past, laughing merrily and speaking of the night before. They  
stopped outside the room and suddenly the door opened. Remmith tried to  
squeeze his rather large body behind the bed to hide.

Aralith laughed with his friends before bidding them good-bye and  
entering his room. He was still chuckling over the antics of his brother  
when he saw the huge, furry shape filling the space by his bed.

"Spider!" He gasped, his voice barely audible. "Spider!"

Remmith stared at the Elf who was staggering backwards toward the  
door.

"No! No!" He hissed and leapt out from his hiding place to jump  
between the terrified Elf and the door.

Aralith's heart jumped as he skidded to a halt, fear coursing through  
him as he realized he was trapped by the giant arachnid.

"I will do whatever you want!" He gasped, his eyes searching  
frantically for his Magic Spider Spray bottle. "Just please! Leave me  
alone!"

Remmith knew that he had found his new master. "I will give you  
anything you want." What could be better than that? So Remmith began to  
tell his new master just what it was he wanted.


	18. Here We Go Again!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Hobbit AU. While the Dwarves are imprisoned in Thranduil's dungeons, Bilbo meets Legolas quite by accident. We find out why Elves don't smoke pipeweed.

"I really should tell him. Really I ought to just tell him. How  
much treasure could he possibly want? Greedy Elf King!"

Thorin Oakenshield sat in the dimness of his prison cell muttering to  
himself. It had been a dismal time for the proud Dwarf, the son of Thrain.  
Sitting in the dark brooding and bored was beginning to eat away at even  
his hardy, stubborn spirit. He would rather be out fighting Orcs as he had  
in the Battle of Azanulbizar, though that battle had been costly indeed.  
But what was this costing him? He moaned, feeling very sorry for himself.  
Yes, the Elves feed him, gave him wine to drink, and attended to his needs,  
but sitting here day after day, not knowing what had befallen his  
companions -grieving for them and cursing them in turn - was slowly  
driving him mad.

"Such a simple thing!" He said quietly. "Just tell that blasted  
Thranduil what he wants to know. How hard can that be! Such a simple  
thing. A simple thing."

But it was not so simple. To tell the Elf what he wanted would be to  
admit that an Elf had defeated him. And that would never happen! No Elf  
would ever defeat a Dwarf! Never! He pouted, now sitting with his arms  
folded over his chest. But, oh! He had never thought to be so tired of  
sitting in a stone room. He stood and began to pace.

"I really should just tell him!"

Outside his cell, two Elves shook their heads.

"What is he saying now?"

"I know not. The same thing he has been saying for days now. The  
Dwarf's language is so coarse and uncouth it begins to hurt my ears."

Laughing lightly at the poor prisoner they continued up the hall.

"How fares he?" The guard who sat outside the other Dwarf's cells  
asked, as they came into sight. "Still grumbling to himself?"

"Aye! It never ceases now. I wish King Thranduil would just let  
them go! They are quite a nuisance."

The guard laughed merrily.

"I think our good and wise King has had other things on his mind of  
late!"

The others laughed as well.

"It certainly has been entertaining! Were you here the night that -"

He snorted with delight. "That Legolas the Sparkly Green made his  
appearance?"

"Nay! I wish I had been. Cuil and Calenthar told me all about it.  
I was down with that other one. I always seem to miss the fun! I could  
have been here watching the performance, but no, I was down in the "deep,  
dark" with the growling Dwarf."

"He is still growling in the "deep, dark". I almost feel sorry for  
him. I feel sorry for myself anyway, having to listen to his moaning and  
cursing. At least I think it is cursing. It is hard to tell."

Hidden in a shadowy corner, Bilbo felt a jolt of excitement. Was it  
possible that Thorin was indeed here? He had managed to locate the other  
eleven cells containing the remaining Dwarves since the night that Gloin  
had sung his duet and received a rather priceless gift from an Elf prince.  
But he had despaired of ever seeing Thorin. But now a glimmer of hope  
shone through. Perhaps his luck wasn't going to let him down after all!  
Silently he crept past the guards and headed down the torch lit corridor.

He heard Thorin's low muttering ere he saw the great oak and iron  
barred door. The leader of Thorin and Company was growling in Dwarvish so  
Bilbo couldn't understand what he was saying, thought the Dwarf's voice  
seemed despondent and defiant by turns. He moved to the door and whispered  
in the keyhole.

"Thorin! Thorin! Can you hear me?"

The Dwarf's voice faltered and he paused in his pacing. He stared  
wide-eyed at the door.

"Who is there?" He called. "Who is out there?"

"It is me! Bilbo Baggins! Thorin, are you well?"

The Dwarf stared at the door.

"Bilbo? The Burglar? No. That cannot be. Bilbo is far from here  
with the others. They have left me suffer this misery alone. Mahal curse  
them!"

"Thorin! Bother! Of course it is Bilbo! The others are here as  
well. We have been for quite some time, you know." The Hobbit glanced  
about, making certain that the guards weren't returning yet.

"Bilbo? Is it really you?" He ran to the door wishing that he were  
tall enough to see out the bars near the top. He spoke into the keyhole.

"You are all really here! All of you!"

His voice sounded so jubilant and pitiful that Bilbo felt quite sorry  
for the rather proud Dwarf.

"We are all here. Never fear. We had quite an adventure, too, I can  
tell you." And he did. Thorin stood at the other side of the door  
listening in stunned amazement at the things that had befallen his  
companions after he had been taken by the Elves.

"You are quite a clever and resourceful fellow, Burglar Baggins." He  
said when Bilbo's tale - a rather longer one than Thorin thought was  
necessary - was finally finished. "I have a message that I need for you to  
deliver to the others. You must tell them that they are not - under any  
circumstances - to tell that Elf king anything about our errand here and  
they will be sorry if they even contemplate telling him about it!" He felt  
a flush rise to his cheeks as he said this, but no one would ever know of  
his own wavering.

"They wouldn't do that. They are doing quite well, actually. All  
except poor Gloin, that is." He shook his head remembering his last  
whispered conversation with that Dwarf. All that concerned Gloin was the  
fear that the Elven maiden would be in trouble for giving away a lock of  
her spun gold hair. "I fear he will never be the same."

"Well, tell them that we are not going to give that King Thranduil  
one small jewel if we can manage to help it. You will figure some way to  
get us out of this. I know you will. Then we won't have to share our  
treasure with him."

Bilbo sighed.

"It would be so much easier if you would just tell him and promise  
him a share." He said, knowing that it would fall on deaf ears.

"Never!" Thorin muttered. "He will never get anything from me, not  
after this shameful treatment."

"Very well." Bilbo said, in a rather resigned voice. "I will think  
of something. And I will tell the others what you have said." As he moved  
away, back up the corridor he said quietly to himself, "I would be glad to  
give him my share of the treasure if only it would free us from this  
place." But well he knew that Thorin would never agree to that either.

So it was that the Dwarves agreed with the message Thorin had sent to  
them, and very relieved they were to learn that he was alive and well, and  
here with them. Their spirits rose and they began to be hopeful.

"Gandalf always said that there was more about you than we knew."

Balin said happily to him. "And that we would find that out before long.  
And well, by Aule, we have! Soon we will be sitting in our own halls of  
stone beneath the mountain, surrounded by our treasures from ages past. It  
will be wonderful." He paused deep in thought. "Who knows." He continued  
quietly. "Perhaps one day Khazad-dum will be ours again as well."

Bilbo shook his head as he thought on this. It seemed that was all  
these Dwarves thought of: reclaiming their lost treasures and glories of  
old.

"I will be content to be in my own chair in my own hole again, with a  
full pantry and the kettle singing merrily about tea time. And a pipe of  
Old Toby or Longbottom Leaf." At this thought the Hobbit laughed silently.  
"Poor old Legolas. I doubt he will ever forget any of this and will be  
quite glad to see us gone! But I shall miss that merry prince." He shook  
his head and returned to his little storeroom where he had spent the  
majority of his time in the Gladaran Thamas.

 

 

On the fifth day the penitents were released from their punishment.  
They managed to look quite repentant while Thranduil inspected box after  
box of glittering gems and jewelry. Finally he pronounced himself satisfied  
with their work and dismissed them, telling them to go and prepare for the  
feast the following night. The king had decided to throw another one,  
since the last ones had been interrupted by the Dwarves.

"And Legolas." He called after their departing forms, Tanglinna  
standing at his side. "See if you can find your brother, Aralith. He  
seems to be nowhere about."

Legolas nodded and went in search of his brother. When he, Tavor,  
and Brethil inspected his room, he was not to be found. But Tavor noted  
the spider hairs on the bed cover.

"You don't suppose." he began with a glance at Legolas. "I mean,  
you had mentioned that Gwibess had said something about other spiders  
wanting masters."

Legolas shook his head.

"I know not. I was not myself at that time." he added wryly. "She  
said that she had tried to stop them, but I don't know who they are." He  
shrugged. "He will show up.

"We should go and check on poor Gwibess. She must be quite  
distraught by all this." Brethil said, shaking his blonde head. "I still  
say you should at least have let her help us. She would rather have  
enjoyed it I think."

"Undoubtedly." Tavor snorted as they left Aralith's room. "Only she  
would have pocketed a few things on the way out and we would be wearing  
child's braids. That would be too humiliating, especially since your  
father is so graciously throwing another party. He probably would have  
made us sit with the children at their little table away from the adults.  
I couldn't survive that."

Brethil and Legolas looked at one another and grinned. Tavor took  
himself and his position in Mirkwood society much too seriously.

"Perhaps we should let Gwibess chose something from the Gem room.  
She did try to warn me after all." Legolas said, moving swiftly down the  
hall. "Father was surely exaggerating when he said he knew exactly how  
many jewels he has."

"And where he got them and when." Brethil added, trotting at his  
side.

"And in which box." Legolas finished.

"No!" Tavor called, hurrying to catch up to them. "You are not  
serious, are you Legolas? Please tell me you are not serious! Ai, Valar!  
Legolas! No!"

Brethil and Legolas broke into a run, laughing. Tavor stared after  
them, a look of horror on his fair face.

"Your father is going to kill us! Truly, kill us! Legolas! No!"

He ran after them, dread welling in him. "I wish I was in Mandos Halls."  
He muttered. "At least you can't get into trouble there..at least I don't  
think so..not if you two aren't there.Wait!"

 

 

At that moment Aralith crept down the dim hall to the Gem room, a  
giant spider trailing him, hissing happily. The Elf prince trembled with  
fear, shuddering with horror. His life was shattered. The spider trailed  
him everywhere and his Magic Spider Spray was missing.

"I will get them for this!" he whispered. "I know Legolas, Tavor,  
and Brethil took it and set this spider on me! I will get them for this."

Remmith stayed practically on his heels until they arrived at the  
room. Aralith unlocked the door with the keys he had stealthily borrowed  
and opened the door. The spider took one look inside and began to dance  
with joy as Aralith opened box after box of newly polished gems. He had  
never seen so many sparkly things in his life. More even than Gwibess had!

Aralith moaned and backed out of the room.

"P.Please put them back when you are done." He told the spider.

"And.and trouble me no more! Take what you want and leave! Please!" He  
fled down the hallway, leaving the spider happily pawing through the jewels  
looking for the perfect ones.

 

 

Later that day King Thranduil accompanied by Tanglinna, who had been  
ordered not to leave his side for some time to come, came to the Gem Room  
to pick some appropriate things for the feast. The king shoved open the  
door, only mildly surprised that it wasn't locked. But when he glanced  
inside he stopped dead in his tracks. Several of the boxes lay open on the  
floor, their contents spilled across the stone floor.

"What is this!" he yelled, stamping into the room. "Who has been  
here?!"

Tanglinna felt his brave heart quail.

"Oh, no." he breathed. "This cannot be happening. This cannot be  
happening!"

And once more the foundations of the grand hall of Thranduil shook.

'LEGOLAS!!!!!!!!!!!"


	19. The Wild Berry War

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Hobbit AU. While the Dwarves are imprisoned in Thranduil's dungeons, Bilbo meets Legolas quite by accident. We find out why Elves don't smoke pipeweed.

King Thranduil of Mirkwood gave his people one of the greatest  
woodland feasts they had ever seen. There was food and wine in abundance,  
much laughter, singing, and dancing. The king was dressed in a magnificent  
robe of shifting autumnal colors that showed his tall, lean body to  
perfection, a crown of berries and russet colored leaves crowned his long  
golden locks. His midnight blue eyes sparkled with merriment. Nothing  
would ruin this feast.

But even as this thought crossed his mind, his eyes strayed to the  
children's table across the clearing. Seated at the shorter tables covered  
with green cloths embroidered with grape vines and butterflies were the  
children of Mirkwood. And seated in their midst were his youngest son, his  
two friends and the Master Archer, their long hair hanging down their backs  
in a single intricate braid. Tanglinna seemed very disconcerted as he sat  
with the giggling, laughing Elf children. And Tavor looked rather unsure  
of what to make of his present situation. But the looks of delight and  
great amusement on Legolas' and Brethil's faces gave the Elf king pause.  
They actually seemed to be enjoying themselves. He shook his head and  
reached for his wine, refusing to worry overmuch about anything this night.

Legolas was smiling at the antics of a small boy seated across from  
him. The child, one Celuon by name, was carefully sorting through the pile  
of berries on his plate, expecting each one carefully before eating them.  
His green gaze fixed on the Elf prince every few moments. Legolas smiled  
at him and picked up a plump berry from his own plate. He held it out to  
the child who inspected it then nodded. Legolas popped the berry into his  
mouth and grinned. The child grinned back.

"Legolas, what are you doing?" Tavor asked, feeling rather  
ridiculous seated at the much too small table in a much too small chair,  
knowing that he looked as silly as he felt. "One would think you were  
enjoying this."

Mirkwood's prince shrugged eating another berry deemed acceptable by  
his tablemate.

"Actually, I am. I always rather resented sitting here when I was a  
child, wanting to sit at the big tables with the grown-ups, but now it is  
rather enjoyable.'

Brethil was enjoying himself also, singing a rather silly duet with a  
golden haired girl child who was giggling helplessly before the song was  
done, her bright eyes watching him with undisguised admiration.

"I think Aralith would be happier here." He commented, looking to  
where Legolas' older brother sat beside Thranduil. "He doesn't look very  
festive."

Aralith wasn't feeling very festive. The spider Remmith wouldn't  
leave him alone. The giant beast haunted the young prince's room at night,  
demanding more and more sparkly things. His every waking moment was  
fraught with dread, fearing to see the lumbering arachnid bearing down on  
him at any moment. He sat now, surrounded by his family and friends,  
glancing about wondering where Remmith was. He had taken to trailing his  
father everywhere, knowing that the spider wouldn't dare to approach him if  
he were with Thrumb Dumb, the name the spider insisted was the king's.

"Where is my Magic Spider Spray?" he muttered quietly, his fingers  
tangling in his napkin. "Where is it? If only I could find it he would go  
away! Where is Mithrandir? He hasn't visited in so long. Why doesn't he  
come?!"

Celebross glanced at his brother.

"What are you talking about, Aralith?" he asked, shaking his silvery  
head in disbelief at his younger sibling. "Spider spray!" He snorted. "I  
thought you had outgrown that nonsense."

Tavor looked at Aralith and shook his head, but then he saw the gazes  
of some of the Elf maidens on him, the laughter quite evident on their fair  
faces. His own face flushed with red and he turned miserably away.

"Will this never end." He moaned, picking morosely at his food.

"Will we ever stopped being punished for this? It wasn't even our fault.  
I mean, it wasn't Gwibess was it?" He looked to Legolas.

"I told you it wasn't. It was one of those other spiders." He  
deftly picked up one of his own and threw it at the child, hitting him on  
the top of his blonde head. He totally ignored Tanglinna's rather  
distressed look. "Gwibess said that there are three of them around here  
somewhere. They want masters." He laughed at the expression on the  
child's face. "It had to be one of them. But I am not telling father that  
there are now four spiders running loose here. You tell him."

Celuon picked up a berry, inspected it, then tossed it at Legolas who  
looked at him with mock surprise.

Tavor widened his eyes and snorted.

"I think not. Thank you all the same. But it really isn't fair. It  
wasn't our spider. And we really need to do something with her. She just  
can't come into the palace whenever she pleases." He shifted uncomfortably  
in his small seat. "I don't like this, Legolas. Baranri and Colmaidh are  
staring at us." His eyes wandered to the young maidens once more, their  
hands over their mouths as they whispered back and forth to one another,  
their eyes dancing with amusement as they stared at the children's tables.

Celaer, Brethil's little admirer had thrown a plump blueberry at him,  
and was giggling wildly as he threw one back.

"They are staring at you , Tavor. You look so grumpy. Rather like  
the king on a bad day." He threw another berry at the child, smiling at  
her.

"Don't start that again, young one!" Tanglinna snapped, his gaze  
going to his king, fearing that Thranduil's sharp ears would pick up on  
their words and bring even more anger down on them. "An no more talk about  
spiders either!"

"Start what, old sourpuss." Legolas said, launching a berry at the  
Master Archer. It hit him squarely on the nose.

Calaer squealed with laughter at the look on Tanglinna's long-  
suffering dignified face. Celuon's eyes widened uncertainly then he made a  
careful inspection of a berry and threw it at Tanglinna as well.

Legolas glanced at Brethil, who grinned as his eyes slide to Tavor.

"Oh, no. I am not getting involved in this." Tavor stated, folding  
his arms over his chest and managing to overbalance himself in the tiny  
chair. He fell backwards with a woof of surprise. Suddenly Legolas and  
Brethil were pelting his prone form with berries, laughing like the  
children who had soon followed suit.

Tanglinna couldn't prevent his smile as he unfolded from his own  
chair, his fingers curling about some berries as well. But they didn't fly  
at Tavor. They landed solidly on Legolas and Brethil.

Soon bread and berries flew about the children's tables, amidst their  
shrieks of joy.

The grown-ups stared at them from their own tables and Thranduil  
shook his head and stood. Aralith looked panicked as he moved away across  
the grass, and he leapt up and followed.

"Wait for me, Adar!"

Thranduil threw an exasperated glance at his middle son - he was  
really becoming quite tiresome - and headed to where the food fight was in  
progress.

"What is this?" He asked, glaring at them.

The children instantly subsided, eyes wide as the king stared down at  
them from his impressive height, arms folded over his chest.

"Get up, Tavor." He said, looking down at the younger Elf, who  
rolled rather ungracefully to his feet, wiping at the berry juice stains on  
his festive tunic. Tavor took one glance at the king and looked at the  
ground.

"Ai, Valar." He whispered. "Not again!"

Brethil had dropped the last of his berries onto the ground, and  
stood looking anywhere but at Thranduil. Tanglinna stood with his eyes  
wide and blank. Completely innocent looking, or so he thought. But  
Legolas still held a handful of the berries, his blue eyes dancing.

"What is this?" Thranduil repeated, his eyes turned to each in turn.

"Nothing, Sire. Merely children being.children." Tanglinna  
answered, keeping his gaze straight ahead of him, which unfortunately was  
now on Legolas. : Don't even think it, nin caun : he thought at the  
prince who was looking decidedly mischievous.

For once Brethil managed to keep quiet though the words crowded in  
the area of his throat, begging for release. Tavor refused to look at  
anyone, though he could feel Tanglinna's great discomfort.

Thranduil gazed at his son, who was struggling to control what looked  
suspiciously like a smile of delight.

"Legolas. What is this behavior? You are too old to be acting in  
such a childish manner. Throwing your food. Honestly, will you never grow  
up."

Legolas shrugged.

"I doubt it, father." He tugged on his long pale child's braid that  
lay over his shoulder with the hand not cupped about the berries. "Twould  
seem I will always be a child."

Tanglinna groaned and shook his head imperceptibly.

"Don't." he hissed, drawing the king's gaze to himself.

"Did you have something to add, Tanglinna?"

"No, Sire. Not I."

"I didn't think so." His blue gaze returned to Legolas. "After all  
that has happened, how can you behave like this? Surely the pipeweed has  
worn off."

Legolas raised one dark brow as if say "perhaps it has, but who is to  
say."

Thranduil stared at him and narrowed his eyes. But before he could  
say or do anything in answer, a berry bounced off his dignified brow and  
caught in his autumn crown.

Legolas couldn't prevent the laugh from bursting forth and he looked  
at the berry thrower, young Celuon, who was smiling rather proudly at his  
handiwork.

Thranduil stared down at the imp whose eyes sparkled with laughter.

"And who, my I ask, taught you that trick, Celuon?" he asked  
plucking the berry from his crown and holding it between his fingers.

The child giggled and pointed to Legolas. Thranduil raised one brow  
and tossed the berry at his son. Legolas gasped and then smiled wickedly  
at his father and threw his handful of berries all at once.

Tanglinna gasped in shock and stared at the two royal Elves before  
him. They would never any of them grow up, he thought with something akin  
to amusement. Tavor groaned, wondering how much more undignified things  
could get when Brethil launched an attack on him. Tavor growled and picked  
up his own neat plate of berries and proceeded to throw them at his  
friends.

The children were all laughing and shrieking, clapping their hands  
with joy and throwing any thing that came to hand. Their parents and the  
other Elves began to laugh as they watched the wild berry war continue  
until all the combatants were laughing too hard to continue. Thranduil  
moved around the table to embrace his son, chuckling with delight.

"Mayhap I should wear a child's braid as well." He said, staring  
down into his son's shining blue eyes. "At times I fear I am too serious."

Legolas shrugged.

"That is not what I have heard." His eyes went to Tanglinna, who  
suddenly shook his head rather violently. "I heard that you once danced  
with a Goblin." He grinned widely. "And seemed to enjoy it right much."

Thranduil turned to stab Tanglinna with his eyes.

"And where did you hear that?" he asked, knowing quite well where  
that story had come from.

Legolas shrugged again, feeling that he had gotten his revenge on  
Tanglinna whose eyes were huge, rimmed with fear.

"Oh, I don't recall. Though it was rather a funny story. I shall  
have to tell Bilbo."

"Bilbo?" Thranduil asked, straightening his robes as he glared at  
the Master Archer. "Who is Bilbo?"

Legolas choked, his mouth opening and closing like a fish.

"Did I.did I say Bilbo? I.I." He grimaced an looked at the ground.

"Yes, you did say it. Who or what is Bilbo?" Thranduil stared at  
him.

Legolas swallowed.

: I am turning into Brethil : he thought miserably.

"Haven't you told him, Legolas? It is really a rather interesting  
tale, your Majesty." Brethil began, his eyes bright as he warmed to the  
tale that Legolas had told them during their time of punishment in the Gem  
Room. "You see, Bilbo is - "

"Shut up, Brethil!"

They all turned to Thranduil who had uttered the words. The king  
shook his head and adjusted his crown.

"Truly shut up. I do not wish to know. Now, may we finish our feast  
in peace?" He turned to the four. "If you wish you may join us at the  
grown ups table and.you may fix your hair if you wish."

Legolas grinned, relieved that Thranduil put an end to Brethil's  
story ere it began.

"If you don't mind, father, I think I will finish the feast here."

He winked at Celuon, who grinned.

"And I as well, Sire." Brethil said, taking Celaer's hand and  
leading her into the clearing as the music began once again.

Tanglinna looked at Tavor who shrugged, but was pulling on his braid  
to free it.

"We will abide here as well, your Majesty. If it pleases you."

Thranduil shook his head in amusement then nodded. Slowly he moved  
back to his seat to watch the dancers, Aralith on his heels. Legolas had  
carried small Celuon out to join the others who were dancing happily. He  
perched the youngster on his hip and spun him about, both laughing happily.  
Tavor was delighted and surprised when Baranri and Colmaidh came up to  
him, running slender fingers through his loosened hair and invited him to  
join them in the dance as well. He smiled quite pleased with himself and  
followed them across the grass. Tanglinna had just reseated himself when a  
solemn eyed girl with tiny flowers braided into her long locks came and sat  
on his lap. She stared up at him with shining eyes and, tugging one of the  
flower chains from her own hair, adorned him with it. He smiled and  
carried her out to the dance.

Thranduil watched it all with amused eyes. This was indeed a feast  
that they would never forget.


	20. Brethilitis Strikes Again

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Hobbit AU. While the Dwarves are imprisoned in Thranduil's dungeons, Bilbo meets Legolas quite by accident. We find out why Elves don't smoke pipeweed.

"I know you will think of something, Mr. Invisible Baggins!" Thorin  
whispered into the keyhole when Bilbo next visited him. "I have only the  
greatest faith in your abilities! You are nearly as much use to us as the  
Wizard now. Drat him for disappearing when we needed him."

Bilbo grimaced slightly and bid farewell to the Dwarf.

: Bother! : he thought as he crept back up the passage way and into  
the more inhabited part of the palace. : Those Dwarves are more trouble  
than they are worth! No amount of treasure will make up for this! I only  
have one ring and there are thirteen of them! How am I to get them out of  
here? Those blasted doors seem to be the only way out of this confusing  
place. What am I to do? :

His furry feet carried him to Legolas' room. The activity about the  
palace was rather subdued that day as the feast of the night before had  
been very festive indeed. Legolas was lying on his bed staring at the  
ceiling; his blue eyes somewhat blank. Bilbo slipped his ring into his  
pocket and climbed onto the bed, smiling.

"Rather late in the day to be lazing in bed." He said cheerfully.  
When he received no response, he frowned and bent over the prince. "Prince  
Legolas?" The Elf remained motionless. The poor Hobbit felt a stab of  
fear pass through him. What if he was dead? What if the pipeweed had at  
last killed him? "Legolas! Legolas!" He shook the Elf looking into those  
staring blue eyes.

Legolas' eyes focused and he blinked, rather startled by Bilbo seated  
on his knees beside him shaking him rather forcefully.

"What is it?" he said, sitting up. "What is wrong? Bilbo?"

Bilbo stared at him.

"I .I thought you were." He shook his head. "Your eyes were open  
and you weren't responding."

Legolas stretched catlike and stared at the Hobbit.

"I was asleep, Bilbo. I had a rather late night."

"Asleep? But your eyes were open. How could you be sleeping?"

The Elf prince laughed merrily. He felt in quite a good mood and  
smiled down at the Hobbit, whose blue eyes were filled with confusion and  
concern.

"All Elves sleep with their eyes open, Bilbo. Unless we are ill or  
hurt. And what are you doing in here anyway? Where have you been these  
past days?" Even as he said this he thought : Do I really want to know? :  
He knew that his father was not one to let anything slip by him, and he had  
mentioned the Hobbit's name the night before. Then Brethil had started to  
blurt out everything he knew in typical Brethil fashion before Thranduil  
had stopped him. His father may not have wanted to know whom Bilbo was last  
night, but Legolas feared that Thranduil might want to know today. Truly,  
his father never forgot anything. "Never mind." He muttered, looking down  
at the cover on his bed. It was best not to know. And he couldn't get in  
trouble for something he didn't know. Well, maybe not.

"I have been visiting the Dwarves."

Legolas raised his dark brows and got out of the bed.

"And how are they faring?" he asked politely, moving to wash his  
face, which had suddenly reddened as he recalled what had happened the  
Dreadful Night of the Pipeweed Incident as he had come to think of it. He  
stared into his mirror and pushed distractedly at the hair sticking up on  
the left side of his head. "They are all well, aren't they? We have been  
feeding them, you know. They are no longer starving." He still felt  
somewhat guilty about not feeding them when they had happened on them in  
the woods.

"Oh, no, they are no longer starving. They are all doing quite well  
actually." The Hobbit laughed and slipped from the bed and moved to the  
chair he had inhabited when portraying Silivren Hithlain Man. "Bombur  
doesn't want to leave."

"Oh? And why is that?" Legolas splashed water on his face and dried  
it.

Bilbo chuckled remembering his conversation with the Dwarf. Bombur  
was rather enjoying his time of imprisonment. His guards had soon found  
him to be something of a connoisseur of foodstuffs and had delighted in  
bringing him delicacies from the kitchens that were meant for the king's  
table. They enjoyed his critiques, thought he never seemed to have anything  
bad to say about anything placed before him.

Legolas smiled at this, having heard much the same thing from some of  
the Elf guards. He frowned once more at his hair muttering again as his  
slender fingers tried once more to weave it - unsuccessfully - into a  
longer braid somewhat further back on his head then it normally would have  
been.

Bilbo smiled over at him, and shook his head.

"I really am rather sorry about the pipeweed, Prince Legolas. If I  
had known how you would react to it I never would have given it to you."

"If I had known how I would react I never would have taken it." The  
Elf rejoined, pushing yet again at his wet hair with his fingers. "I can't  
believe I cut my Warrior braid off." He said, glaring at his reflection.

"And gave it to a Dwarf!"

"Gloin is quite thrilled with it." The Hobbit continued, looking  
amused. "He keeps it near his heart. He was all concern for your welfare  
after it happened."

"I am pleased to hear it." Legolas said sarcastically, then a  
worried frown creased his brow. "He doesn't still think that I am a  
female, does he?"

"Well." Bilbo shrugged. "I am afraid he does, though he mentioned  
that your voice was deeper than he imagined."

"My voice?" He snorted, then paused. "Bilbo, did I really sing with  
the Dwarf?"

"You did. And a very nice song it was, too. Something about rolling  
down a hole." The Hobbit laughed remembering that night. "Your voices  
complimented one another nicely. Though I was rather surprised that Gloin  
knew any songs in Elvish."

"The barrel song." Legolas groaned, leaning forward to rest his  
hands on the dresser and shaking his head. "I hate that song."

"What is the barrel song?" Bilbo asked curiously.

"It is a song that we sing about the empty barrels that we float out  
of the palace and down the river. We import many of our things from other  
places. Especially the wines. They come from our kin in the south or from  
the Men. Valar!" he sighed, looking at his mutilated hair once more.

"You float the barrels down the river? The one that runs in front of  
the castle?" Bilbo sat forward, suddenly feeling a dim ray of hope.

"Yes. Celon o Tinnu - the River of Night."

"Do you roll the barrels out of the magic doors then?" Bilbo asked  
excitedly.

"No. They are pushed into the water and go out the water-gate. Some  
of them go to Long Lake. There is a settlement of Men there living on an  
island. The only way to reach it is by crossing one of their many  
bridges." He snorted, twisting at his hair and giving himself a headache.

"They fear the Dragon of course."

Bilbo started.

"Dragon? Did you say Dragon?" : Perhaps, : he thought gleefully. :  
I am useful!:

He listened to the prince rattle on and on about Smaug the great  
Dragon that inhabited Erebor. And how it hoarded all the Dwarves treasures  
that were supposedly in the mountain. But while he continued to speak  
Bilbo heard something that the prince did not: footsteps approaching the  
room. He hastily shoved his ring onto his finger and slid out of the chair  
and under the bed.

"I have always wanted to see a Dragon." Legolas was saying, pleased  
with himself now that the hair had at last been forced into a tight braid  
that he continued to weave it in with some longer strands. "I know that  
is foolish, but I am sure Dragons are quite impressive. That is why I like  
my bubble pipe so much. It has a Dragon's head on it, remember? They must  
be quite enormous. Don't you think so, Bilbo?" He turned to the Hobbit,  
but he was gone.

"Who are you talking to, little Greenleaf?"

He spun and found his father standing in the doorway, one brow  
raised.

Blue eyes frantically searched his room for any sign of the Hobbit.  
But he was nowhere to be seen. He gulped slightly and turned to his  
father.

"I.um.that is.I was just." His eyes widened as they met Thranduil's.  
His father did not look amused as he had the night before.

"Little Greenleaf, I believe that there are some things we need to  
discuss." He said, his own eyes roaming about the room for the elusive  
Bilbo.

"Oh? I can't imagine what. Wasn't.wasn't the feast last night  
wonderful?" He smiled tremulously. "And.and the children were so sweet  
and cute and -"

Thranduil's brow rose further.

"And did you see Tanglinna dancing with Lendlaes? She is so small  
and cute and he looked rather ungainly. Almost like you must have looked  
dancing with the Goblin when you smoked.pipeweed.in.the forest." He  
faltered and swallowed. Then he groaned. : There must be magic afoot  
here! : he thought desperately. : Because I have turned into Brethil:

Thranduil's face reddened and his eyes narrowed. He had not had an  
amusing night after the feast. Aralith had trailed him to his room,  
insisting that he wanted to spend the remainder of the night there and not  
in his own room. And when at last he had wrested the reason for his son's  
great fear from him - more spiders in the palace!! - he had lost his mellow  
mood and spent the rest of the night brooding and growling. And now his  
son mentioned that time with the Goblin!! No one was supposed to remember  
that! He had specifically told all those who had been with him at the time  
to forget about it! But it seemed someone had not. : I should have made  
them drink water from Morn Nen : he thought angrily.

"What did you say?" he asked in a low dangerous voice.

"Nothing?"

Thranduil breathed slowly several times through his nose, feeling the  
heat in his face cool a bit.

"It seems we have more to discuss than I first thought." He managed  
in a normal voice. "You had better come with me now."

Legolas' shoulders slumped and he grimaced. He glanced once more in  
the mirror only to find that his braid had come loose and his short hair  
was free once more.

"This is not going to be a good day." He said morosely.

"What are you saying now, little Greenleaf?" Thranduil called back  
from the hallway.

"Nothing. I am saying nothing. Ai, Valar. When will I learn to  
keep my mouth shut. I am turning into Brethil. This is not going to be a  
good day." And he followed his father down the hallway, kicking at the  
floor.

Bilbo waited until they were gone before slipping from under the bed.

"Water-gate, eh?" He smiled. "I will have to find out about this  
water-gate." He left the room, quietly and on invisible feet. "Thank you  
again, Prince Legolas. This has turned out to be a rather good day for  
me!" And he hurried down the corridors toward the cellars.

Author's Note

Yes. I know that Bilbo learned about the water-gate by lurking in corners  
and listening to the king's servants talking about it. But I changed it a  
little. Canon people I apologize, but hey! It is more fun this way.


	21. Shrieking Spiders

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Hobbit AU. While the Dwarves are imprisoned in Thranduil's dungeons, Bilbo meets Legolas quite by accident. We find out why Elves don't smoke pipeweed.

Legolas followed Thranduil into his bedroom and was somewhat startled  
to see Aralith standing there, fretting in the corner. The two brothers  
stared at one another - Aralith glaring and Legolas frowning - as Thranduil  
moved to seat himself in a comfortable chair. He sat straight, his arms  
resting lightly on the chairs, his eyes unreadable.

"It is his fault, father." Aralith began. "I know it is. Who else  
lets spiders into the palace!"

: Spiders? : Legolas thought with confusion. "What spiders?" he  
asked feeling slight exasperation rise in him. What had he said about  
spiders lately? He thought he was here because of Bilbo.

"It seems," Thranduil interrupted before Aralith could give vent to  
his own ire. "That Aralith is being.uh, followed by a spider. Here in the  
palace. Do you know anything about this, Legolas?"

"Of course not. Gwibess wouldn't follow him around."

Aralith glared at him.

"You are the only one who seems to want them in the palace. How many  
of them are there?" He asked in an accusing tone. He truly didn't like  
having his fear ever before him and wanted the stalking to end. He  
shuddered involuntarily, eyes darting about the room wondering where the  
spider was right now.

Legolas frowned again. He had no idea how many of them there were or  
for that matter where they were. He didn't even know where Gwibess was.  
Then he thought back to his father's face the morning after the "Dread  
Pipeweed Incident", perfectly made up. The other spiders. He swallowed.  
Were they still here?

"Are we remembering now, little Greenleaf?" Thranduil asked, a  
rather too bland expression on his face. He, too, was wondering if  
Aralith's spider was one of the ones that had decorated his face with berry  
juice.

The youngest Mirkwood prince grimaced.

"I .I really don't know how many there are. But I didn't let them  
in! Father, you know I wouldn't do that!"

"Do I?" Thranduil raised one elegant eyebrow. "Well, you are going  
to let them out. Today! Go find Tavor and Brethil and get them out of  
here."

Legolas sighed and nodded. At least his father hadn't mentioned  
Bilbo. Perhaps Thranduil would forget about Bilbo if they could make the  
spider chase an interesting enough tale.

Aralith scowled at him, folding his arms over his chest.

"And make sure they take them far from here, Father." He said  
smugly.

"Make sure they take them far from here?" Thranduil said, turning to  
his middle son. "But you are going with them, Aralith."

A strangled cry emitted from his throat and Aralith turned  
imploringly to his father.

"But.but you can't send me with them!" he began.

"I can and I am. It is time you faced up to your fears and conquered  
them. This seems a good place to start. A prince of Mirkwood afraid of  
spiders indeed." Thranduil looked quite pleased with his solution to the  
spider problem and watched his sons smugly.

Legolas tried to hide his own satisfied smile as he whispered: "The  
king is wise and good." But Thranduil noted it and turned to him.

"And little Greenleaf. When the spiders have been taken care of, you  
are to come find me. And by then you had better have a good answer to this  
question: Who is Bilbo?"

Stifling a groan Legolas left the room, followed by a muttering  
Aralith.

"This is all your fault, little brother." Aralith hissed. "We had  
better find that monster fast!" He shuddered and glanced down the torch  
lit hall. "I can't take this any more. I hate spiders!"

Legolas shook his head.

"Go get your bow and meet us by our old tree house."

"My bow?!" He gasped. "Alone? You want me to go to my room  
alone?!"

Mirkwood's youngest prince turned to look at his brother. He could  
see the dread and fear in the dark blue eyes. He almost felt sorry for  
him. But not quite enough. How many times had the roles been reversed?  
How many times had Aralith tormented him about Silivren Hithlain Man? He  
laughed.

"Yes. Alone. Unless you are afraid the big bad spider it going to  
get you first. Where is your Magic Spider Spray, big brother?""

Aralith narrowed his eyes.

"Very well, Legolas the Sparkly Green! At least I still have all my  
hair!" With that he spun away toward his room, ignoring the fear that  
hammered in his heart.

Legolas' fingers strayed to his hair.

"Ai, Valar." He moaned. "When will all this end? Why did we ever  
think taming Gwibess was a good thing! Wild spiders loose in the palace!  
Taking father's jewelry and robes. And then I will have to make up  
something about Bilbo." He shook his head. "I wish those Dwarves had  
never come to Mirkwood. I wonder why they did. And to think Bombur  
doesn't want to leave." His eyes widened. What could that mean? He  
frowned trying to remember exactly what he and Bilbo had been discussing.  
It had been about the Dwarves. Bombur didn't want to leave, and Gloin was  
thrilled with the Warrior braid that resided by his heart. And the song  
they had sung: the barrel song. "I hate that song." He whispered,  
walking down the hallway toward the magic doors. And then they had spoken  
of the empty barrels floating down the river. And the water-gate. Bilbo  
had seemed to be particularly interested in that part of the conversation.  
And then the island of the Men. And the Dragon in Erebor. Piece by slow  
piece the puzzle fell into place in his mind. "Oh, no!" he groaned.

"Bilbo is going to free the Dwarves! Oh, no. And I know about it! Ai,  
Valar! I know about it!! I don't want to know. I don't want to know.I  
don't want to know! No! That can't be it! That can't! It.It is  
something else! Yes. He isn't going to free the Dwarves.he really  
isn't.he really." he groaned. "He really is. He is.and Father is going  
to ask me all about it.Elbereth help me! I can't afford another attack of  
Brethilitis!" Then slowly a twisted grin crossed his face. "Maybe a  
spider will get me first. Yes. That would solve everything. A spider  
bite! Yes! I will have to get one of them to bite me. Yes! That is the  
solution!"

Several Elves glanced in concern at their prince as he passed out the  
magic doors, muttering to himself about spider bites.

 

 

Remmith, Hiwdil, and Cablas had found an unused storage room that  
they had made their own. Since Remmith had acquired Aralith as a Master,  
the other two felt they didn't need one, since this one gave them anything  
they asked for. Many sparkling things adorned their room and several soft,  
glowing robes adorned their large bloated bodies.

"Who needs Masters?" They creaked happily, fondling their treasures.

"I think Gwibess is foolish to have Masters." Hiwdil said, stroking  
his long violet robe, his many eyes riveted on the silver, gold, and green  
stitching on the hem and the sleeves. "I look very nice. Perhaps I should  
be the Aran. [king] I wonder how loud I can be."

Cablas and Remmith exchanged skeptical glances.

"Why would you want to be the Aran of the shining ones?" Cablas  
asked, holding up a mithril chain with a smooth white stone dangling from  
it.

"THEN I COULD HAVE ALL THE SPARKLY THINGS AND SOFT ROBES FOR MYSELF!  
How was that?" He looked at his two fellow arachnids, grinning, fangs  
flashing.

They winced at the unexpected shriek and stopped their ears with  
their front legs.

"You have a lot now." Cablas said. "Remmith's new Master brings us  
everything we want. And I don't think the shining ones would like one of  
us as their Aran. They hate us!"

"And besides that," Remmith commented, lowering his legs. "You  
weren't nearly as loud as Thrumb Dumb."

"I wasn't?" He cleared his throat. "WHAT DO YOU MEAN I WASN'T AS  
LOUD AS THRUMB DUMB!!?? Was that better?" He smiled hopefully.

Remmith shook his furry head and put on an emerald necklace.

"Not nearly as loud."

"HOW ABOUT NOW!!!"

"Not yet." Cablas commented dryly wondering how long they would have  
to listen to Hiwdil trying to out-shriek Mirkwood's Aran.

 

 

"What is that?" Tavor asked, hearing a rather high pitched sound  
bounce down the corridor they were walking in as they hunted for the  
wayward spiders.

"Spiders!" Aralith shrieked and jumped forward to grab Tavor's arm,  
his dark blue eyes wide with terror.

Tavor grimaced and shook his hand off.

"Really, Prince Aralith." He said, shaking his head with disbelief.

"You should learn to control yourself. Honestly."

"Just as you controlled yourself when you called my father immature  
and a spoiled child? Or when you tamed a spider? A spider?!" Aralith  
shot back.

Tavor turned to stare at him.

"How do you know what I said?" He asked, his face reddening.

"I know a lot of things. The three of you never control yourselves!  
You always do things without thinking. That is why we are here hunting  
spiders! In the palace!"

Brethil stared at him and shook his head.

"We are really sorry about that spider, Prince Aralith. Honestly, we  
don't know where it came from. Gwibess is a harmless spider. She would  
never hurt anyone. She is really rather sweet for a spider. And she looks  
so cute in Legolas sparkly green robes from the feasts. And when she puts  
on the jewelry we gave her - well, your father doesn't look as pretty as  
she does! And well, it is true that we were going to use her to scare you,  
but-"

"Shut up, Brethil!" Tavor and Aralith hissed.

Only Legolas remained silent. He was still wondering how he could  
manage to get a spider to bite him.


	22. To Bite or Not to Bite

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Hobbit AU. While the Dwarves are imprisoned in Thranduil's dungeons, Bilbo meets Legolas quite by accident. We find out why Elves don't smoke pipeweed.

While the four Elves were searching for the spiders, Bilbo had gone  
in search of the water-gate. He made his way down the corridors that led  
past several of the Dwarves' cells, but he didn't stop to chat. Though he  
paused in front of Bombur's. The door was standing open and Bilbo could  
see the two guards inside and he could hear their merry laughter.

"That was quite good." He heard Bombur say. "Very light and fluffy.  
And very sweet!"

Bilbo could hear smacking noises as the Dwarf licked his fingers in  
delight.

"And what is that?" He exclaimed as his guards presented him with  
another dainty.

Bilbo shook his head in dismay.

: He will never want to leave! : He thought in despair and moved  
quietly on his way. What were they to do if the Dwarves refused to go? He  
knew that Thorin was chomping at the bit as it were and they couldn't leave  
fast enough! But Bombur and possibly Gloin were going to be problems.  
:Oh, bother those Dwarves! :

Parts of the hallway were not lit and the Hobbit had to feel his way  
along the wall with his hand. He could tell he was traveling downward, the  
floor sloping slightly beneath his feet. Presently he heard voices and  
soon entered a large cave like room where the ceiling had been cut away and  
covered with huge oaken trapdoors. Many, many barrels stood in this room  
and he crept to hide behind a rather large one. Several Elves were there  
talking and laughing together. It seemed that Legolas the Sparkly Green  
was still worthy of tales as they were discussing the youngest prince.  
Bilbo shook his head, feeling rather guilty about that night. But soon the  
talk turned to the party of the night before and the great fun they all  
had.

"Lots of empty barrels will be floating out today." One of them  
commented. "The men of Lake-town will know that we have had a party!"

The others laughed with him.

"Do you remember the time that the Tricksy Trio decided to float one  
of the barrel rafts to Lake-town themselves?" A tall Elf asked the others,  
his eyes alight with humor.

"Yea! And their poles got stuck in the river's bottom and Brethil  
wouldn't let go of his and he was stuck in the middle of the river clinging  
to his pole as the raft bearing Prince Legolas and Tavor floated away!"

Bilbo smiled as the Elves laughed at the exploits of the Tricksy  
Trio. Truly, they seemed a fun bunch. So perhaps things like this  
happened all the time here in Gladaran Thamas. He felt a little better.  
Then as he watched quietly, the Elves pushed several barrels into the water  
and opened the water-gate. Slowly they drifted out and were caught by the  
current and bobbed away.

: I wonder: he mused as he watched this operation for several  
moments. Then they came for his barrel and he slipped silently away. :  
Perhaps Mr. Invisible Baggins has an idea after all! :

 

 

Another shriek split the air as the Tricksy Trio and Aralith neared  
an area reserved for storage.

"They are in there!" Aralith gasped, clutching his bow.

"Obviously." Tavor commented dryly. "What are they doing do you  
suppose?" He asked Legolas. "Are we going to shoot them?" He glanced at  
Aralith whom he didn't trust not to shoot one of them in his current state  
of fear.

"Shoot them?" Legolas looked at him. He hadn't thought about how  
they would get the spiders out of the palace in his own current state of  
worry about the Question. "No. We cannot shoot them. I need them to bite  
me." He added to himself.

Another loud shriek shook the hall. Followed by what had to be  
spider laughter.

"What are they doing?" Brethil asked, with a smile on his face. He  
grabbed a torch from the lily shaped iron sconce on the wall. "They sound  
rather like the king in one of his moods."

"Don't let him hear you say that!" Legolas gulped. "We are in  
enough trouble. You.you don't suppose one would bite me, do you?" He  
asked hopefully, blue eyes wide with scant hope.

Tavor and Brethil turned to stare at him.

"Why are you worrying about that? You haven't been bitten in years."

Tavor said, his eyes watching his friend with suspicious concern.

"He is just being silly and trying to help Aralith to get over his  
fear." Brethil said, smiling at Legolas for his supposed kindness to his  
brother. "You are so nice, Legolas."

Legolas frowned over at him, his dark brows knit in consternation. :  
No: he thought. :I really want one to bite me! :

Tavor moved forward, took the torch from Brethil, and pushed the door  
open. He wondering how many were in the room. He hoped it wasn't too  
many. That could get rather awkward, not to mention that it would draw  
entirely too much attention to them. And he was getting very tired of all  
the attention that had been lavished on them of late.

When the spiders saw the Elves they glanced at one another then they  
all shrieked as loudly as they could. They had talked themselves into  
believing that if they impressed any Elves with their loud shrieks then  
just perhaps one of them could be the Aran. Hiwdil was no longer the only  
one wishing to rule over the shining ones. They turned bright expectant  
eyes to the Elves, who were staring at them in astonishment.

"Who was louder, Shining Ones?" Remmith hissed, moving toward them.

"It was I, wasn't it?" Then he caught sight of his own master. "Oh,  
Master! Did you hear me? I was as loud as your Adar. I just know that I  
was!" He leapt toward Aralith in excitement, crimson eyes alit with great  
pleasure.

The frightened prince gave a strangled cry and fled down the hall,  
his bow clattering on the floor.

"Ai, Valar." Tavor muttered. "Come on, spiders. Let's go." He  
motioned with his hand and turned to lead them from the room, fully  
expecting them to obey him instantly.

But the spiders didn't follow. Remmith was staring sadly down the  
hall after his master. He had come to like the cowardly prince during  
their time together and was rather distressed that the Elf ran every time  
he came into sight. Or shrieked himself, with fright. Hiwdil and Cablas  
were watching the other three, hoping that they would drop to their knees  
before the spider that had shrieked the loudest and name him their leader.  
Two of the Elves had turned to stare at the departing form of Remmith's  
master, then turned and spoke to one another in low musical voices,  
exchanging pitying yet irritated glances. But the other one was staring at  
the spiders with such a strange expression on his face that the spiders  
quaked slightly with apprehension. What was wrong with him?

Legolas took several deep breaths and edged closer to the arachnids.

"Please." He whispered in a fevered voice. "Bite me."

Cablas and Hiwdil shot confused glances at one another. Surely they  
had misunderstood what he had said.

"Please! Bite me! I need you to bite me!"

"What is he saying?" Cablas whispered hastily to his comrade.

"He.he wants us to bite him." Hiwdil whispered back, torn between  
wanting to flee the obviously insane Elf and oblige him. He had never  
bitten an Elf in his short life and he sincerely wanted to. But he knew  
that his shriek had been the loudest and he feared that biting this one  
might damage his chances of becoming the Aran. But the slim Elf did look  
tasty! He inched forward, wondering which desire was stronger.

But suddenly Brethil stepped forward and whapped the indecisive  
spider on the head with Aralith's discarded bow.

"None of that now. Come along. King Thranduil wants you to leave  
today and we are here to escort you out. Uh.may they take their.their  
sparkly things?" he asked quietly.

Tavor frowned, staring at the many jewels that flickered in the light  
of the torch. He looked to Legolas, uncertain as to what they should do.  
It would probably be easier to let the spiders take their loot and go than  
try to get them to leave without it. But the look of desperation on the  
other's face gave him pause.

"Legolas? What is it? Do we let them take the jewels or not? Does  
your father know how many they have.uh.accumulated? What did he tell you  
about it? What did your father say?"

Legolas moaned. "He said that I had better have an answer for the  
Question.and I don't! Please bite me!" He held his arm out to Hiwdil.

"Legolas what are you doing?" Brethil asked. "Why do you want that  
spider to bite you?"

"I told you! I don't have an answer to the Question!"

"What question?" Brethil asked, truly curious.

"The Question! Ai, Valar! The Question! Just bite me!"

Cablas stared at him in horror. There were many stories that the  
spiders told one another about the Shining Ones that hunted them so  
ruthlessly. For the first time fear shot through the young spider as he  
stared at the one standing before him, the white teeth bared, blues eyes  
flashing and one arm outstretched.

"They are mad!" he hissed. "Mad!" He shrieked in fear and leapt  
over the Elves, skittering across the ceiling to the door and fled down the  
hall, some of his jewels slipping to the floor in his haste.

Brethil and Tavor shot panicked looks at one another.

"It's getting away!" Brethil stated, watching it clamber over the  
stone ceiling, moving much faster than should have been possible.

"I see that, Brethil!" Tavor snorted in disgust. "Go after it!"

"Oh! Yes." And Brethil ran lightly down the hall.

Remmith watched his fleeing companion disappear into the darkness  
followed by the Elf who was calling after it. He turned to look at the two  
remaining Shining Ones and Hiwdil. Hiwdil was staring fixedly at the one  
that was Remmith's master's gwador. [brother] The two were bound by blood  
to suffer under the Aran who was their Adar as well. He knew the look in  
his fellow spider's eyes only too well. He was going to bite someone!

"Elbereth help us!" He creaked and leapt from the room, hurrying  
down the hallway after Brethil and Cablas as fast as his long, slender legs  
could carry him.

Tavor gasped and turned to stare after the spider.

"What did it just say?" he said to no one in particular. "Did he  
just say 'Elbereth help us'? Did a spider just call on Elbereth?!"

But Legolas was not listening to him and neither was the spider whose  
red gaze was fixed on Mirkwood's prince.

"He wants me to bite him!" he hissed. "He wants me to bite him!!"

He bared his fangs and darted forward.


	23. Who's Afraid of the Big Bad Aran

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Hobbit AU. While the Dwarves are imprisoned in Thranduil's dungeons, Bilbo meets Legolas quite by accident. We find out why Elves don't smoke pipeweed.

Thranduil had seated himself in the pleasant family garden admiring  
the profusion of colorful chrysanthemums blooming about him. The tall  
stalks of golden rod and wild asters swayed in the cool breeze of an early  
Ivanneth [September]. He took a deep breath of the autumn laden air and  
poured himself a fragrant cup of tea. Muffins stuffed with plump berries  
and chopped apples lay atop a plate edged in silver. The sky above was a  
crisp blue and fluffy white clouds drifted overhead.

Soon the spiders would be out of the palace; he would have his bed to  
himself once more; and they would have a great feast to celebrate this  
return to normalcy. Perhaps a Hunt was in order as well. It had been  
quite some time since the last one when their quarry had escaped toward  
Morn Nen.

He sighed happily, sipping his tea and allowing his thoughts to  
wander pleasantly.

Suddenly the peace of the morning was shattered as a grunting,  
hissing noise assailed his ears. He turned, frowning to see a spider  
trying to squeeze its way out of a window that opened in the hillside at  
ground level. He watched as it scrabbled with its four front legs at the  
wall, twisting itself and pushing to get free.

"It is mad!" It hissed frantically. "It is mad!"

With a final great contortion of its body it plopped to the ground.  
It shook itself and started to run, but then it saw Thranduil staring at it  
in amazement and shock.

"Thrumb Dumb!" It muttered, just as amazed and shocked.

"Did you address me?!" Thranduil asked feeling rather affronted.

Cablas stared at the Aran. Perhaps now was the time to test his  
shriek. If he was louder than Thrumb Dumb then he could order that made  
one to be locked safely away. Not to mention all the jewels and robes he  
would receive. He stared at the beautiful one that the King of the Shining  
Ones was wearing enviously. He rose to his full height and moved toward  
Thranduil, challenge sparkling in his eyes.

The king of Mirkwood stood, his own eyes flashing fire.

"I am warning you, spawn of Ungoliant," he began in a fierce voice.

But the spider rose onto its four back legs and shrieked for all it  
was worth, after all the kingship of Mirkwood was at stake. It's four  
front legs waved wildly in the air in a manner that he hoped Thrumb Dumb  
would find menacing.

Thranduil had started at the sudden noise, but then he scowled  
fiercely.

"GET OUT OF MY PALACE!!!!!!!!!!!"

Cablas froze, his mouth hanging open, his shriek dying in his throat.  
He stared down at the Elf king in shock, then he turned and fled  
thinking,: I will never be that loud! They are all mad! Who wants to be  
the Aran of a race of insane pointy -eared beasts! :

Thranduil stood panting with rage, his fists clenched. It was then  
that he saw Brethil climb gracefully through the same window, bow in hand.  
The young Elf saw the king and froze, his mouth falling open.

"Uh.your Majesty!.Mae Govannen! I was just.that is we were just  
chasing the spiders out of the palace like you asked us to. Though Aralith  
ran away before we could really start. He really is afraid of them, isn't  
he? And well, Legolas was acting very strangely, too. Not that he was  
afraid, mind you. No, just the opposite actually. He wanted the spiders  
to bite him. Honestly," Brethil shook his head, scarcely pausing for  
breath. "I don't know why "The Question" would disturb him so much. Do  
you know what "Question" he is talking about? Oh, I am sure you do. You  
are the king." He bowed. "And the king is wise and good, or is it good  
and wise? So what "Question" was it? Was that you screaming? Oh, yes. I  
thought that it must be - "

"Shut up, Brethil!!" Thranduil barked, his hands moving to clench  
his temples. He suddenly had a very bad headache. "Just.just tell me what  
is going on. In as few words as is possible for you." He managed to say,  
fingers gripping in his hair.

"I thought I was." Brethil answered, quite unaware of the affect he  
had on the king. "Shall I continue or should I start over? We were just  
chasing the spiders out of the - "

At that moment Remmith struggled through the window and fell into an  
ungainly heap on the ground. He too hesitated as he jumped up when he saw  
Thranduil. He seemed to consider something then he moved to face the king.  
And he shrieked.

Thranduil's eyes widened and his head throbbed unmercifully. He  
glared at the arachnid and bellowed as only he could.

Brethil stared at them in shock, wincing and covering his ears.

Remmith's voice died first in utter surprise at the volume the  
slender Elf could emit. His bid for the kingship was over. He shrugged.  
He had not truly wanted to be the Aran of the Shining Ones anyway. He  
clasped his jewels tightly against his chest and ran into the trees.

Thranduil turned to Brethil.

"Were those spiders wearing my jewels?" he asked in a soft deadly,  
somewhat hoarse voice. "And my clothes?!"

Brethil stared after the spiders.

"Well, yes. Actually I think they were. They seem to prefer your  
clothing for some reason. I guess they are much nicer than anyone else's.  
And they do look rather lovely in them, don't you think? Not as nice as  
yourself of course. But rather nice for spiders. Now Gwibess looks rather  
stunning in.in." Brethil's voice faltered as Thranduil advanced on him,  
fists clenched at his sides, handsome face contorted and red with anger.

"I know.Shut up, Brethil." And with that he bowed and hastily followed  
after the spiders leaving the king glaring at nothing but the  
chrysanthemums.

Anger simmered in his brain turning all the bright colors of the sky,  
trees, and flowers a strange shade of scarlet that matched his countenance.

"LEGOLAS!!!" He shrieked and even Hiwdil knew that he had just lost  
the kingship that he was certain he had just acquired since the mad Elf was  
kneeling before him, clasping his bitten arm to his chest and crying "Thank  
you! Thank you!"

 

 

Tavor stared at Legolas a look of mystified distress on his face, the  
grey eyes wide. What had just happened?!

Hiwdil, upon hearing the Aran's last roar, which sounded suspiciously  
like "Let Go Lass" the one he feared he had just bitten, jumped into the  
air in fright. He then threw off his jewels and robes and bolted from the  
room, moaning in terror.

Tavor stared after him for a moment then turned back to Legolas who was  
bent double, rocking back and forth. He moved to place the torch in a wall  
sconce by the door and hastily knelt by his friend.

"Legolas, are you alright? Legolas!"

The prince raised his head and Tavor didn't know if he should be  
relieved or more alarmed. A smile graced his face, the blue eyes bright  
with triumph.

"It bit me!" he exclaimed happily. "It bit me! Do you see? It bit  
me!" He held out his arm for Tavor's inspection.

Tavor swallowed at his fear and took the proffered arm. He pushed  
aside the torn tunic and stared at the skin beneath. He looked back at  
Legolas who was nodding his head back and forth in delight. He let out a  
great sigh.

"Oh, thank Elbereth! It didn't break the skin." Tavor laughed,  
feeling somewhat better, though Legolas' current behavior troubled him.

"That silly spider didn't bite anything but your tunic sleeve. You're  
fine. Truly, stop worrying."

"What!?" Legolas snatched his arm back and contorted it to look at  
the torn sleeve and the untouched skin of his arm. "No. No! He was  
supposed to bite me! Valar!" He leapt up. "What am I to do now?" He  
hunted about the room for his bow. "Where did it go? I will shoot it if  
it doesn't bite me properly this time!"

Tavor stood staring at him aghast.

"Legolas.um.I think you had better sit down. You seem a  
bit.overwrought." He took Legolas' arm, wondering how he could get word to  
someone begging for their help. Where was Brethil when he needed him?

"No, I can't do that. I have to find that spider!" His bow lay on  
the floor a few feet away. He scooped it up and pushed past Tavor.

"No! Legolas! Wait!" He moved after his friend, grabbing his arm  
tightly to halt him.

The prince stared at him impatiently.

"Let me go, Tavor. I have to catch that spider before it gets away!"

"It.it is long gone, I am sure. It was running very fast. You will  
never catch it and besides," he added for good measure. "You don't know  
which way it ran."

Legolas stared at him. Then his shoulders slumped in defeat.

"What am I to do then?" He stared down the empty hall, his brows  
knit in thought. Suddenly his face brightened. "Where is Gwibess?" He  
asked suddenly.

"Gwibess?" Tavor didn't like the turn this was taking. "I am sure I  
do not know. Come with me, Legolas. Perhaps Nestadren should take a look  
at you. You .you don't look well." : I wonder where the Healer is. : he  
thought, trying to push aside his fear.

But little Greenleaf would not be deterred from his determined  
course.

"I have to find Gwibess." And he pulled away, trotting down the  
hall.

Tavor shook his head and started after him. Where was everyone?!

"At least tell me what is going on. If I am to get in trouble yet  
again, I at least deserve to know what I am going to be punished for."

Legolas sighed, anxiety biting through him.

"Where is Brethil?" he asked. If he were going to tell someone it  
was not going to be Brethil.

"He went after the other two spiders. What is going on, Legolas?"

Suddenly he paled. "Your.your father was yelling for you. Ai, Valar!  
What have we done now! Oh, Brethil! What have you done!?"

Legolas gulped.

"Oh, no. Brethil knows about Bilbo, doesn't he? Ai! He has told  
father about Bilbo and then father will know the Dwarves are going to  
escape and the I knew it and didn't tell him!" He stared at Tavor in  
horror. "We have got to get out of here!"

Tavor blinked several times and shook his head. Then he nodded.

"Quickly."

The two stared at one another, then trotted swiftly up the corridor.

But just as they neared the main hall and escape they heard something  
that stopped their hearts.

"LEGOLAS! WHERE ARE YOU?!"

The young Elves skidded to a halt, panting with fright. Thranduil  
would have them cornered unless they escaped now. It was then that  
Tanglinna appeared, his face full of consternation. Screaming Elf Kings  
this early in the morning was not a good sign. His eyes lit immediately on  
the two.

Legolas shook his head and threw a pleading glance in his direction.

But it was Thranduil next shout that decided the Master Archer's  
course. He scowled at his prince and his friend and turned away  
deliberately and disappeared, moving perhaps more quickly than was  
necessary away from them and away from the approaching King.

"Hurry! We'll go out my window!" Legolas decided and they turned  
and hurried as soundlessly as possible toward the living quarters.

They met Celebross in the hall. He frowned at them.

"What are you two up to now? I thought you were supposed to be  
chasing the spiders. And why is father yelling at you again, Legolas? And  
why is Aralith cowering under his bed?"

Legolas shook his head.

"I don't have time to talk now, Celebross. Tell father.tell father  
that we.that we are still chasing after the spiders." He grimaced as yet  
another piercing roar filled the air, much too close. "Please!"

Celebross sighed and nodded, remembering when he and Aralith had fled  
the castle to escape the earlier fireworks.

"Elbereth help you. Hurry! I will try and stall him. Though that  
may be nigh impossible. He sounds very angry."

Legolas smiled in relief and then grabbed Tavor's arm and rushed to  
his room.

Gwibess was there, prancing about in one of Legolas sheer green robes  
that were worn for the spring feasts. She looked up at them excitedly.

"Don't I look beautiful?" She crooned at them, waiting for the  
praise that was usually forth coming from the masters.

"Oh, Gwibess." Legolas groaned. "We can't leave her here. Come  
one, Gwibby. We have to go. Quickly!"

"What is wrong, Master Let Go Lass?" she asked as they pushed her  
toward the window, which had never seemed so small before.

"We need to .to.we are going camping for a while." Tavor improvised  
and then shrugged as Legolas gave him an odd look. "And what would you  
have said?" he asked.

"Fine. We are going camping, Gwibess. But we have to leave right  
now."

"Is that the Aran shrieking? Oh, dear Elbereth. He gets louder and  
louder. Is that why we are hurrying? Doesn't he want the nice Masters to  
go camping?"

The two shoved her into the window.

"Oh! Masters, the window is too small!" She grunted, feeling her  
body wedge tightly.

Tavor and Legolas leaned with their backs against her and pushed with  
all their might, their boots sliding on the floor with the effort.

"Oh, Masters! I can't move! Help me! I am stuck!" Her legs that  
remained in the room thrashed about in fear. "Help me, Masters!"

The two turned and pushed again, but she didn't budge.

"What.are.we.to.do?" Tavor panted, straining against the spiders  
bloated, hairy body.

"Keep pushing! We.have to. get..her out of here! Push Gwibess!  
Push!"

The spider grunted and pushed with all her might against the outside  
wall, trying to wriggle free.

Just then the bedroom door flew open and Thranduil stood there, his  
face suffused with red, his eyes narrowed blue chips of ice. He stood  
staring at them, his mouth twisted in anger. Celebross stood behind him,  
his face apologetic.

"Ai, Valar." Tavor moaned, trying not to think of Mandos Halls, and  
failing miserably. "Now I know how Glorfindel felt when he faced the  
Balrog. Only he was much braver than I. Ai, Elbereth, please let it be  
quick. Don't let me suffer, I beg you!"

"Shut up, Tavor." Legolas continued to strain against the spider,  
which squealed slightly, kicking even more frantically. His eyes never  
left his father's face, but he couldn't give up now. They were too close  
to escape.

"Legolas, what are you doing?" Thranduil asked, controlling his  
voice. His throat was feeling rather raw at present.

"Um.Getting the spiders out of the palace?" His feet slipped and he  
nearly fell.

"Why are they using the windows? And why are they shrieking at me!?"

"I.I.I don't know. You know how spiders are." He grinned weakly,  
but Thranduil's frown just deepened. "We've fed her entirely too much."

He moaned to Tavor renewing his efforts.

"Is that spider wearing my robe?" Thranduil asked advancing on them.

"No. It is mine. You know I wouldn't let her wear yours.any more."  
Legolas could feel panic rising in him and what he feared was an attack of  
Brethilitis coming on. He knew the symptoms well: the tightness in his  
chest; the ache on his tongue; his brain feeling very hot and squeezed.  
"Ai, Valar! Not now."

Thranduil was nearly upon them and Legolas felt everything that he  
didn't want to tell his father rise in his throat when Gwibess popped free  
and fell out of the window. Tavor and Legolas fell against the wall and  
then with a quick panicked look at one another they launched themselves  
after the spider. They scrambled to their feet, urging Gwibess to run.  
She scrambled to her feet, throwing a look of disgust at Thrumb Dumb who  
stood in the window and shot after them.


	24. The Problem With Dwarves

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Hobbit AU. While the Dwarves are imprisoned in Thranduil's dungeons, Bilbo meets Legolas quite by accident. We find out why Elves don't smoke pipeweed.

Over the next few days Bilbo had several conversations with Thorin.  
He didn't tell the Dwarf of his plan as he was still working out the  
details, but he assured him that soon they would be on their way.

"It had better be soon, Mr. Invisible Baggins," Thorin had said. "It  
is still some way yet to our.destination." He ended in a whisper, ever  
fearful that sharp Elven ears might hear any carelessly chosen word he  
uttered.

"I am working on it, Thorin," Bilbo assured him. His plan was fairly  
simple and should - he hoped - work quite well. It was the Dwarves'  
willingness to leave that troubled him. He sighed as he crept away from  
Thorin's cell. Most were more than ready to be rid of this place, but  
Bombur and Gloin were reluctant to depart. He decided to visit them first  
and perhaps persuade them that it was indeed time to flee the hospitality  
of King Thranduil.

Bombur was alone for once, humming happily to himself.

"Bombur! Bombur! Can you hear me?"

The Dwarf turned then stood, a smile lighting his face.

"How are you, Bilbo?" he asked politely.

"I am quite well, thank you. How are you?"

"Oh, I am very well," Bombur said sounding very pleased and excited  
as he came top whisper at the keyhole. "You will never guess what is going  
to happen!"

"Well, no. I don't suppose that I could." A feeling of apprehension  
filled the Hobbit. He was certain that it would mean the Dwarf would be  
even more reluctant to go.

"Then I will tell you! Oh, Bilbo," he gasped, clapping his hands  
together in glee. "The Elves have asked me to make something for the  
King's feast!"

"What? The King's feast? But, Bombur," he spluttered, blinking rapidly in  
surprise. "When is the King's feast? My goodness! Those Elves certainly  
do like their feasts! Not that I blame them, but Bombur.we will be leaving  
soon!"

"Oh, yes. I know that. You don't suppose the others could be  
convinced to stay? Just a little longer," he said hopefully.

:Oh, bother! Here we go again! : Bilbo thought wearily.

"No, Bombur. I can't see them wanting to stay locked in their cells  
any longer than is absolutely necessary."

"That is too bad. I have rather enjoyed it here." The Dwarf heaved  
a great sigh. "We will be here for the feast, won't we? It will be in  
just a few days." That wasn't entirely true, but Bilbo wouldn't know that.

"Well, I suppose we will," Bilbo conceded, frowning slightly.

"Bombur, is this to be a big feast?"

"Oh, yes! A wondrous feats! With lots of singing and music and  
dancing! And food!" He sighed, clasping his hands together in delight.  
"Oh, I am so excited! The Elves have promised me that I may sample  
everything!"

Bilbo was only half listening to the raptures of the Dwarf. He knew  
that if it were a large feast then there would be plenty of empty barrels  
to float down the river; plenty of barrels for the Dwarves to ride all the  
way to Lake Town in. He felt a swell of excitement himself.

"I am very happy for you, Bombur. I am sure the King will be quite  
thrilled with whatever it is you will prepare for him."

"Oh, yes! I am quite adept in the kitchen, you know. You must  
excuse me, Bilbo. I must decide what to fix. Oh! Please tell the others  
about it. I am sure they will feel honored that I was chosen to do this!"

Being dismissed Bilbo moved on to speak with each of the Dwarves,  
bearing messages from one to the other.

Balin was pleased to hear of their imminent release. He spoke at  
some length on what he would do once they had rid themselves of the Dragon.

".and then I should like to reclaim Khazad-dum," he finished with a  
wistful sigh. Ever his thoughts seemed to turn to the other lost kingdom.

:I only hope I won't have to help you reclaim that one!: Bilbo  
thought wryly.

Just as he was turning to leave the white bearded Dwarf called softly  
to him.

"Are you quite sure, Bilbo, that the fair maiden is really the King's  
son?"

Bilbo grimaced at the slight quaver in the other's voice. Really!  
Perhaps their privations in the forest had affected their eyesight.

"I am quite certain, Balin. I am so sorry, but he is the King's  
son."

Balin sighed deeply and shuffled away from the door.

"That is really too bad. He is quite pretty though, isn't he?"

Bilbo shook his head in amusement. These Dwarves were really rather  
funny at times.

"Yes, Balin. I suppose he is." Shaking his head in dismayed  
amusement Bilbo moved off down the corridor and back to his storeroom to  
consider his plan more carefully.

 

 

Gwibess studied her three masters, trying to keep the rather bored  
expression from her face. Since they had run away three days earlier they  
had camped out under the stars enjoying the peace and quiet of the forest.  
Camping was fine, she had decided, if one didn't have to do it for more  
than a few hours at a time. There were no sparkly things to amuse here out  
here at all! She had not been very pleased to flee the palace at such  
great speed either, with Thrumb Dumb shrieking after them and the other  
Elves looking at them with strange expressions on their faces. She had  
become rather fond of her quiet life as a tame spider and even this small  
departure from it was wearying.

"Masters? When are we going home?"

But the three Masters were engrossed in their own worries. Tavor was  
looking rather dejected and throwing bits of grass and dead leaves into  
their small fire; Brethil for once, was quiet, staring into the woods  
beyond them; Legolas was scowling at nothing. Things had not worked out  
well. They had brought no food with them, or water. And only Brethil had  
a bow. The three sighed simultaneously.

"Can we go home yet?" Brethil asked. "I really don't want to stay  
out here anymore." He glanced at their spider. "Gwibess wants to go as  
well." He smiled over at her and she moved to stand beside him gratefully.

Tavor looked hopefully to Legolas. He didn't want to be the first to  
broach the subject, but since Brethil had he was ready to agree.

Legolas gazed at his two friends and the spider, amazed at the  
pitiful looks on their faces. He sighed again, digging in the ground  
before him with a stick.

"Yes. We will go home. But first," he interrupted their cries of  
happiness. "We have to go and get the jewels the other spiders took.  
Perhaps that will lessen the punishment we are going to get."

Tavor grimaced. Not again. How many times could they be punished in  
such a short amount of time? In one lifetime?

"Your father must surely be out of punishments by now." He muttered,  
rising gracefully to his feet. "Even he cannot possibly think of any more  
ways to humiliate us."

"Oh, I am sure he could, Tavor." Brethil began, standing also and  
stretching then scratching Gwibess on the head. He drew a breath and  
opened his mouth.

"Shut up, Brethil." Legolas and Tavor moaned.

"Come on. We need to find the spiders. Do you have any idea where  
they are?" Legolas asked, looking at the others.

Gwibess raised one spindly leg.

"I do, Master." She said reluctantly.

"Really? Where are they?"

"They are near the Magic Water. Where your boat floated away and I  
fell in."

"Good! That is not too far." Legolas stopped and looked at her.

"You remember that?" His eyes slide to his friends. He wasn't certain  
what would happen when the effects of Morn Nen wore off.

Tavor frowned, brows knit.

"How can she remember? The effects can't wear off."

"Yes, they do eventually." Legolas stared at the spider. She looked  
abashed and regretful about having spoken out. She feared they would send  
her away now.

"They do not! Brethil pushed me in and I still don't remember it."

Legolas smiled for the first time in days. Brethil giggled, covering  
his mouth with his hand.

"What are you two laughing at?"

The two grinned at one another. Having decided that the little trick  
had served several purposes they decided the game was up.

"You never fell in. We just made that up. We had that game  
planned for some time. When Brethil called me a Prince of Singing Orcs I  
decided to start it. He took the blame and the fun began!" Legolas said,  
then he began to laugh.

"What?! What?!!" Tavor spluttered glaring at them. "You made it  
up! Why I ought to -!" He leapt at Brethil who was the slower of the two,  
but Gwibess blocked his way and Brethil managed to escape into the trees,  
trailing after Legolas. Tavor growled at Gwibess. "Get out of my way,  
Gwibess!"

"May I go home now, Master Ta Worm?" She asked, ready to pin him to  
the ground if he refused her. Though she feared that he would then tell  
her not to return home. Ever. That she could not bear.

"Yes. Go home. Just.just stay out of trouble!" He danced around the  
spider and sprinted into the trees.

Gwibess gleefully headed in the opposite direction, glad to be on her  
way back to her sparkling nest at last. She hissed and creaked merrily as  
she trotted along, then took to the trees. She failed to see the small  
group of Orcs that were hunting for a place to rest for the day as the dawn  
approached.

"Are you sure this is where she is?" One asked, looking about him.

"It was quite a while ago when she was heard."

"It was here somewhere. I thought I heard voices earlier, but no one  
was singing."

"Won't it be wonderful when we find her," a third one sighed happily.

"Yes," the fourth and fifth agreed. "We have been hunting her for  
quite some time now."

"She has the most beautiful voice. She really scared those stupid  
Dwarves away! Fools! How could they not like her singing? Though they  
should throw themselves at her feet and thank her for saving their  
miserable lives. To think we had tracked them all the way from the Misty  
Mountains to here only to let them go." The Orc smiled recalling the eerie  
voice they had heard singing in the woods. "I will throw myself at her  
feet when we find her."

"I wonder what she looks like?" The sixth and final one said, a  
silly grin on its ugly face.

"Let's go," the leader called "Hopefully this night we will  
find our Singing Orc Princess!"


	25. Finding the Singing Orc Princess

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Hobbit AU. While the Dwarves are imprisoned in Thranduil's dungeons, Bilbo meets Legolas quite by accident. We find out why Elves don't smoke pipeweed.

Thranduil of Mirkwood was rather annoyed. He had been troubled by  
Dwarves, troubled by his sons, troubled by spiders, troubled by his Master  
Archer, and the list seemed to go on and on. Just a couple days before he  
had witnessed his youngest son squeeze a spider through the bedroom window  
and dive after it, disappearing into the woods. He shook his head.

"This madness has to stop," he hissed pacing back and forth in the  
Hall.

Tanglinna stood in a far corner, arms folded over his chest, a  
carefully blank expression on his face. The rest of the Hall was  
conspicuously empty.

"This madness has to stop," the Elf king repeated. "I will not  
tolerate any more spiders, pipeweed, Dwarves, sparkly pink.or  
green.or.whatever in my Hall again! This has to stop, Tanglinna!"

The Master Archer raised one silver brow.

"Yes, your Majesty," he said softly, wondering if he should have kept  
quiet when Thranduil suddenly spun toward him, piercing him with the  
intensity of his blue gaze.

"Get the horses. You and I are going after them. Now. Meet me at  
the front of the palace."

Tanglinna bowed and hurried out of the Hall and toward the stables.  
He knew they would ride until they found them.

At least I am not involved in this latest escapade of theirs, he  
thought grimly. I only hope that all this "madness" can stop! Ai, but I  
tire of it!

Thranduil went to change into his riding leathers, choosing ones of a  
rich green embroidered with golden leaves.

"Things will change," he told his scowling reflection. "Beginning  
today, nay, beginning now things will be different." He nodded in  
agreement with himself as he smoothed the butter soft leather over his  
chest. "There will be no more Dwarves traipsing in my forest; no more  
spider hairs on my clothing; no more missing jewels; no more pipeweed that  
makes people act.strange and chop off their hair; no more shrieking beasts!  
No more anything unless I order it!" He reached for a rather plain  
circlet, one not often worn, with good reason. He studied the beaten  
silver in his hands, his thumb running over the simple design of tightly  
interconnected swirls. There were no jewels or embellishments to adorn it.  
Legolas would most definitely recognize this headgear. "He will tremble  
with fear." Thranduil said with a wicked grin. His sons had learned to  
dread the appearance of Celeb Baudh - the Silver Judgment. It didn't  
appear on their father's head very often, but when it did they knew that  
they were doomed.

Thranduil wondered if he should have donned it earlier, before things  
had gotten so far out of hand. Well, he was wearing it now! Little  
Greenleaf would be trembling like a leaf in the wind when he caught sight  
of his father. He adjusted it, studying his reflection once more. He  
scowled even more fiercely at himself, baring his even white teeth. Yes,  
it would end today. He turned and strode out of the room.

Anyone who caught sight of the king that morning slipped away  
unnoticed, not wanting to draw his attention. His blue eyes flashed with  
dark purpose and Celeb Baudh glittered on his brow. Two words were  
whispered about the realm that day:

"Poor Legolas!"

 

 

"Do you believe this?" Tavor asked as they pulled open sticky little  
webs filled with glittering gems, necklaces, bracelets, rings, and other  
sparkly things. "Those silly spiders. Why do they have to put these webs  
on everything?"

The full moon shone above, setting the gems on fire with its light

"Because they are spiders," Brethil answered with a shrug, wiping his  
slender fingers on his leggings. "It is what they do, Tavor.

Tavor glared over at him.

"I know that, Brethil. It wasn't necessary for you to answer that.  
It was a rhetorical question. Why can't you just shut up! Honestly, at  
times I think you are incapable of it. All I did was comment on  
these.silly webs and you have to say, "Because they are spiders. It is  
what they do, Tavor." Really, sometimes I think you must talk in your  
sleep. Does your mouth ever rest? I don't think. "

Legolas and Brethil glanced at one another then smiled and looked at  
Tavor.

"Shut up, Tavor," they said loudly to get his attention as he rattled  
on and on about Brethil's rattling on and on.

He turned to stare at them.

"What? Why did you tell me to shut up? I wasn't doing anything."

"You sounded like me," Brethil giggled, covering his mouth with his  
hand. "Your mouth was running on and on and on."

Tavor glared at them, grey eyes full of indignation! Then he  
realized that he had indeed been babbling as badly as Brethil. He grimaced  
pulling a necklace from the webs.

"I have spent entirely too much time with the two of you. Look at  
me. Is this how I should be spending the day? I knew we should never have  
tried to tame a spider. How ridiculous -"

"You're doing it again, Tavor!" Brethil gasped, laughing.

"I am not. I am merely stating that the two of you have been a  
rather bad influence on me. I would never have gotten myself into this  
sort of mess with anyone else."

"Shut up, Tavor!" Legolas and Brethil laughed glancing from their  
friend to one another.

"At least he isn't talking about Mandos' Halls." Brethil commented  
as Tavor continued his list of all the things that they had gotten  
themselves into.

"Not yet, at any rate." Legolas had taken off his outer leather  
tunic and they were piling the gems and jewelry into to it so they might  
transport it back to Gladaran Thamas. "I suspect he will get to that in a  
moment."

Tavor continued to voice all his complaints about what had happened  
since they had seen the Dwarves stealing their boat here at Morn Nen.  
Legolas and Brethil ignored him letting him air his supposed grievances  
against them, his best friends since childhood.

"And you Legolas, singing to the Dwarves! Prince of the Singing  
Orcs! That is what they called you."

"We all sang, Tavor. They call us Singing Orcs. Don't you remember?"

Legolas grinned. "Or perhaps you really did fall into Morn Nen!"

Tavor sneered at him, continuing to pluck things from the webs and  
toss them into the tunic on the ground.

"Prince of the Singing Orcs!" Brethil added. "You called Legolas  
that! Not the Dwarves."

"I don't think we sounded like Orcs. Did you, Brethil?" Legolas  
asked with a grin wiping his sticky fingers on his slightly iridescent pale  
blue inner tunic.

"No. I thought we sounded very nice myself. What do Dwarves know,"

he added with a sly grin.

Legolas narrowed his eyes in warning and Brethil laughed merrily. He  
stretched, throwing the last jewel onto the pile.

"May we go home now?" Tavor asked staring at his fingers in disgust.  
"I should have gone with Gwibess and left the two of you to contend with  
this."

"Then you would have faced the King's wrath alone." Brethil said  
with a sigh.

"Oh, no. We aren't going to think of that now. By the time we get  
back home we will have come up with some way to lessen our  
punishment.whatever it may be." Legolas frowned slightly and then shook  
his head. Suddenly he grinned at Brethil and Tavor and began to sing. It  
was the slightly eerie song the three had made up to sing to the Dwarves.

Brethil grinned widely and joined him, moving to drape his arm about  
the prince's shoulder. They sang louder and advanced on Tavor who was  
staring at them in dismayed disbelief. They grabbed him up in their  
embrace until he was laughing and singing with them. Everything would be  
fine now. The spiders were out of the palace; they had the jewels back.  
Yes, everything would be fine now.

 

 

 

 

"Do you hear that?"

"Yes! She is near!"

"She is not alone! There is more than one!"

"Hurry! Don't let them escape us!"

The six Orcs trotted through the trees. They had been searching the  
area around Morn Nen ever since they had first heard the enchanting voice  
that had frightened their prey away. They had never heard anything so  
beautiful, its siren call enflaming their hearts. Now their long vigilance  
would be rewarded.

Garluk the leader jogged ahead of the others, a grin on his ugly  
features. There would be a fight as well this night, to see who would  
claim the Singing Princess and her maidens as his own. His hand tightened  
on his weapon, his heart swelling. He had no doubt that he would be the  
victor.

The other five felt the same way, each confident that at the night's  
end they would be with the Princess and her companions. Each Orc smiled  
into the darkness, flexing muscles and stroking weapon handles as they ran  
on swift, eager feet toward the voices.

 

 

The Tricksy Trio had collapsed onto the ground in a fit of laughter  
near the jewel filled tunic. They lay on their backs staring up at the  
glory of Elbereth's stars enjoying this outing for the first time since  
they had fled the palace with such an ignominious exit.

"It has been a most strange time," Tavor commented with a laugh.  
"One I don't think I would care to repeat."

"Nay. But it will all be over soon," Legolas said, rolling onto his  
side and looking at the pile sparkling beside them. "This should help to  
lessen the blow my father will strike when we return." He reached over and  
plucked up a circlet studded with diamonds. He sat up and placed it on his  
head. Grinning he stood and bowed comically at them. "I guess I can see  
why the spiders had such fun with them."

Tavor and Brethil laughed and each chose gaudy collars of silver  
studded with fat pale gems and flashing emeralds.

"Let us adorn you, O Prince of Singing Orcs."

They stood adorning Legolas and themselves with bracelets and  
necklaces. As Tavor and Legolas laughingly compared their jewelry, Brethil  
bent to pick up a large ring set with a sapphire. As he straightened he  
noticed that they were not alone.

"Uh, Legolas. Tavor," he began quietly, his grey eyes widening.

"Legolas! Tavor!"

"What is it, Brethil?" Tavor asked, turning from admiring his prince  
to look at the other Elf.

"Orcs."

"What? What are you talking about? We don't look like Orcs," Tavor  
joked. "We just sound like Orcs when we sing."

Legolas chuckled in delight and turned to where Brethil was staring  
with such a stricken look. His face fell in dismay.

"Tavor," he hissed. "There are Orcs!"

"Oh, no. Don't start that again. I am tired of being teased.  
Really, you two, I don't think it is -" He turned then and saw what the  
others did. "Ai, Valar. They are Orcs!"


	26. Never Push a Princess

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Hobbit AU. While the Dwarves are imprisoned in Thranduil's dungeons, Bilbo meets Legolas quite by accident. We find out why Elves don't smoke pipeweed.

"I tried to tell you that, Tavor," Brethil murmured as they stared at  
the six Orcs, who were staring at them with puzzled looks on their ugly  
faces.

"Is that them?" One of the Orcs whispered to Garluk, scratching his  
head. "They don't look like Orcs."

"Are they those Elves, like we've heard about?" Another hissed in  
fear.

Garluk frowned. Neither he nor any of his companions had made forays  
into Mirkwood before and had never seen an Elf in person. They had heard  
many tales with varied descriptions of them, none of which agreed except on  
the ferocity of those elusive beings.

"They are rather strange looking," one said, taking in the long pale  
hair, fair faces, the slight glow that surrounded them in an ethereal haze.

Garluk studied them closely. He wasn't certain what to do. Then he  
noticed the sparkling gems that adorned them and the iridescent clothing  
that one wore. Perhaps this is what female Singing Orcs looked like. They  
looked nothing like the few females he had encountered in his life, but  
none of them were of the Singing variety. It was a rare Orc that could  
sing. He had heard rumors of a male singing Orc, but he wasn't certain if  
he believed that tale. Singing male Orcs would be a problem. Garluk  
frowned, studying the three beings in front of him.

"Are you the Singing Orc Princess?" He asked Legolas in Common  
Speech, ready to bow at her feet or hack off its head, depending on the  
answer.

"What did he say?" Tavor asked incredulously.

"He asked if Legolas is a Singing Orc Princess." Brethil said,  
wishing that his bow wasn't propped against a fallen tree several feet  
away, behind the Orcs. As was his quiver of arrows. "Are your ears  
bothering you today, Tavor? You don't seem to hear anything that is being  
said."

"Shut up, Brethil! Singing Orc Princess?" Tavor stared at the Orc.

"Singing Orc Princess??"

Garluk didn't understand any of their words, but the voices were  
pleasant, though not quite what he had expected. He frowned. Perhaps he  
was mistaken. But then the one in the middle, with many jewels sparkling  
in the moonlight, looked him in the eyes. Who but a princess would be so  
adorned? The Orc leader felt his face flush with excitement as the blue  
eyes flashed fiercely.

"What did you say to me?" Legolas asked in a deadly quiet voice, his  
face reddening, hands clenching into fists.

Tavor and Brethil glanced at one another. They recognized the tone,  
only it was usually issuing from the mouth of the King. They took a step  
back, distancing themselves from him and from the Orcs they suddenly felt  
sorry for.

"Poor things." Brethil whispered, shaking his head. "Why did they  
have to mention the word "princess"?"

"Just be ready, Brethil. Or he'll take them all by himself." Tavor  
hissed.

"Are you the Singing Orc Princess that we heard earlier?" Garluk  
repeated, wishing he knew what an Orc Princess was supposed to look like.

"I am NOT an ORC!! I am NOT a PRINCESS!! Why does everyone keep  
saying that??!!" Legolas snarled. "I am starting to get very annoyed by  
it!!"

The Orcs edged closer, amazed and bewitched by the narrowed blue  
eyes, red face framed by moonlit hair, crowned with dazzling jewels, white  
teeth bared in a feral snarl.

"It is," one of them moaned in ecstasy. "It is the Princess!"

"I - AM - NOT - A - PRINCESS!!!"

"Oh! Listen to her shriek! It is her voice! I recognize it! I -  
OOF!"

The Orc hit the ground as Legolas sprang onto it.

"I - AM - NOT - A - PRINCESS!!" He shrieked again, banging the  
beast's head onto the ground to punctuate each word.

The other Orcs stared down in shock.

"She is attacking him! She is very strong. She -!"

That Orc found himself sprawled on the ground on his face, one arm  
twisted behind it, Legolas' knee jammed into its back.

"I am not a girl!!" He spat, ruthlessly yanking on its arm until it  
yelped in pain. "Say it! "You are not a girl!!"!"

"You are not a girl! You are not a girl!" The Orc cried out. "You  
are not a girl!" He felt as he never had before. He was in ecstasy! He  
would die at the hands of the Singing Orc Princess!

"Come on, Brethil. Choose one, or there won't be any left." Tavor  
hissed, springing onto one of the remaining Orcs with a loud cry. Brethil  
grinned and leapt at another one, bearing it to the ground beneath him.

Garluk watched as the Elves managed to take out his burly companions  
one by one until he and one other were the only one standing. The other  
Orc was jumping up and down with excitement and clapping its clawed hands  
together. But then the "princess" growled and jumped at him. Soon he was  
lying on the ground moaning.

Legolas stood panting slightly, the snarl still on his lips as he  
turned to Garluk. Brethil and Tavor moved to stand beside him.

"Don't EVER call me "princess" again!" He told Garluk.

The Orc smiled, eyeing the "princess" with great admiration and  
appreciation. "She" was very strong, but he didn't doubt he could take

"her". He grinned throwing aside his weapon and flexing his large muscles.  
He was preparing to launch himself at Legolas when a voice shrieked:

"WHAT IS GOING ON NOW??!!"

 

 

Garluk was not a stupid Orc, or a foolish one. He knew the others  
were. He did not fear the strong "princess", but his admiration had gone  
up considerably when she had taken out his companions so easily. When  
the tall one on a horse came riding in, eyes flashing like blue fire,  
accompanied by a silver haired attendant with a bow, Garluk had no doubt  
that he could take them on as well. But when he saw the "princess" look  
up, her glorious eyes resting on the new comer and giving a choking cry and  
stagger backwards in horror, Garluk began to wonder. He thought he heard  
her whisper something that sounded like kelb bawd, but he didn't know what  
that meant. It might be the name of the golden haired rider, but perhaps  
not.

The other two "maidens" had started as well and moved to stand behind  
their "princess", eyes filled with fear. It was then that Garluk truly  
began to wonder just what he had gotten himself into. His fellows were  
climbing to their feet, moaning and complaining.

"What is this?!" Thranduil repeated, taking in the Orcs and the  
Tricksy Trio. "Legolas, what have I told you about playing with my  
jewels?!"

Legolas started and stared down at himself, suddenly recalling that  
he had been playing with his father's jewels. He raised a stricken face to  
this father then began to remove all the baubles, throwing them hastily  
onto those piled on his tunic.

"I - I - I -" he spluttered, his eyes returning again and again to  
Celeb Baudh . "Ai, Valar! I am going to die!"

Brethil and Tavor began to thrust their own ornaments away as though  
they were poisonous snakes twining about their wrists and necks. Tavor's  
mind was in a whirl as he tried to contemplate how they would manage to  
survive this encounter with their King. His lips moved, but no sound  
emerged.

Brethil bit at his lips to still them, hoping that if he stood behind  
Legolas and Tavor perhaps he would remain unseen and therefore he wouldn't  
be questioned about what had happened.

I won't tell him anything, this time, he told himself. Not about  
spiders, or Orcs, or his jewels. Or about the water from Morn Nen that we  
were taking back with us because then he will want to know why and I can't  
tell him THAT! His grey eyes moved to the dark rush of water that was not  
very far from where they stood. I will say nothing. Nothing at all. I  
can do that! Just keep your mouth shut, Brethil!

Thranduil's eyes moved from his son to the Orcs. He felt a look of  
anger and disgust cross his face.

"You are to leave Mirkwood now! If ever I see you - or smell - you  
here again under my trees I will have you killed before you can draw a  
breath to ask my pardon! Leave now or Tanglinna will chase you down and  
you will fall this day. I am being merciful to you now, as I don't want  
my wood polluted by your foul blood! LEAVE!"

Garluk would have challenged the rider on any other day, but the look  
on the "princess'" face told him of the futility of the action. If "she"

had shown no fear when he and the other Orcs had arrived to confront them,  
and leapt forward to attack them without a second's hesitation, was  
cowering in fear before the rider in dark green then perhaps it would be  
best to heed the words spoken. He glanced once more at the "princess",  
regret and admiration filling him.

"Get moving!" He barked at the others. "Now!"

The battered Orcs from the Misty Mountains moved away, throwing  
sorrowful glances at their "princess". They would return home defeated,  
but with many wondrous tales to tell. After all they had seen the Singing  
Orc Princess and her maidens. Not to mention the Queen of the Singing  
Orcs.

Thranduil watched them go, and motioned for Tanglinna to follow them  
to make certain they did leave Mirkwood. The Master Archer spared a glance  
for the three younger Elves and shook his head in pity. Then he turned his  
mount after the Orcs.

Thranduil dismounted and advanced slowly on his youngest son.  
Legolas gulped and backed slowly away, Tavor and Brethil hastily moving  
away from them both. They needn't have worried, as Thranduil only had eyes  
for his son at the present moment.

"Little Greenleaf," he began in a low voice, the moonlight reflecting  
off Celeb Baudh. "You are in a lot of trouble."

Legolas felt laughter bubble up in his throat. A lot of trouble?  
That was such an understatement.

"I am not in a lot of trouble," he murmured, glancing at Tavor and  
Brethil. "I am dead. I just don't realize it yet. This is my  
punishment," he told them in a conversational tone. "To live this over  
and over and always be in trouble, with my father advancing toward me to  
slay me with his lips; the Silver Judgment on his brow.""

Tavor and Brethil looked at one another, concern filling their eyes.

"He sounded almost like you there for a moment, Tavor." Brethil  
murmured. "Only he didn't mention Mandos Halls."

Tavor turned to stare at him in disbelief.

"He should throw himself in, as we had told him." Brethil continued  
in a whisper. "He can't get in trouble for what he can't remember doing.  
Right? But then we would have to jump in as well, or we will be in  
trouble because we could remember. What would be best is if the King fell  
in and didn't remember, then -"

"Shut up, Brethil!" Tavor hissed through clenched teeth.

Thranduil narrowed his eyes and glared at the two, effectively  
silencing them. Then he continued to walk toward his son who could hear  
the rushing water behind him.

"Don't even think about it, Little Greenleaf. You have had entirely  
too much fun and mischief of late and it must stop. Now."

Legolas could feel the edge of the bank at his heels and he had to  
halt his steps or he would fall in. Did he really want to forget  
everything? It sounded like such a simple solution. But when would he get  
his memory back? He gazed over his shoulder. Would his father not punish  
him because he threw himself into Morn Nen? Or would he merely wait for  
his memory to return? Or would he not wait at all and punish him anyway?  
He looked back at his father and the Silver Judgment.

He moaned and turned deciding to throw himself in. Thranduil shot  
toward him, followed closely by Tavor and Brethil.

"You will not escape me that easily, Little Greenleaf!" The King  
exclaimed grabbing for his son and -

 

 


	27. Here We Go Again!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Hobbit AU. While the Dwarves are imprisoned in Thranduil's dungeons, Bilbo meets Legolas quite by accident. We find out why Elves don't smoke pipeweed.

"This is just wonderful. Absolutely wonderful."

Tanglinna, the Master Archer of Mirkwood stared down at the two  
sodden bodies at his feet. They had pulled them from Morn Nen and they  
were sleeping quite peacefully, eyes dreamy, pleasant smiles on their lips.  
He shook his head and frowned.

"This is just wonderful," he repeated.

Tavor and Brethil looked warily from him to stare at one another.  
Then they looked down at the King and his son.

"You shouldn't have told him to jump in, Tavor," Brethil began,  
shaking his head in imitation of the Master Archer. "Nothing good will  
come of it."

Tavor gaped at him, brows knit, an incredulous look on his face.

"Nothing good will come of it? Nothing good will come of it! I did  
NOT tell -"

"Don't even start!" Tanglinna hissed, cutting them off effectively.

"I have enough to worry about without the two of you acting like idiots!  
Pick him up. I will carry the King."

"I wonder what they will remember when they wake up," Brethil  
whispered as he helped Tavor drape Legolas over the horse's back.

"I wouldn't know," Tavor said with a quick glare. "I have never  
fallen in."

Brethil merely smiled knowingly, but said nothing.

"If we are lucky they will have forgotten about the Dwarves and  
everything that has happened since then." Tavor continued as he watched  
Tanglinna leap agilely onto the other horse behind Thranduil's body. "We  
can only hope so."

"But won't he notice that there are Dwarves in his dungeons?"

Brethil asked as he seated himself on the horse and helped put Legolas into  
a sitting position in front of him, the blonde head nestled on his  
shoulder. "Ugh! He is very wet!"

Tavor snorted, mounting behind him. The horse whickered as if to say,  
"Three of you is asking a bit much". They followed after Tanglinna slowly.

Brethil gently stroked Legolas' cheek, the Elf prince smiling and  
murmuring something.

"Poor Legolas. What will we tell him about this?" His slim fingers  
toyed with the short hair where the left Warrior braid had hung.

"We will worry about that when the time comes."

"He will notice it again, you know. He was so upset the last time,  
that I am not sure what he will do this time! Then we will have to tell  
him about the Dwarves again, and the singing, the Bubbles, the sparkly  
green, and the -"

"Shut up, Brethil!!"

He turned to stare at the two who had yelled at him.

"What? I was merely saying that -"

"Keep your mouth shut, young Brethil," Tanglinna said sharply. "It  
is bad enough that you will tell Legolas everything you know, but you must  
avoid the King at all costs. If you must see him bring Tavor with you -  
No, don't." He shot a glance at Tavor appraising him critically. "You,  
too, seem to have a problem controlling your tongue of late. At least the  
prince will not recall anything to say." He shook his silver head,  
adjusting the King's body against his own. "We will need to put this  
away," he continued indicating Celeb Baudh.

"Perhaps we should throw it into Morn Nen," Brethil said with a grin.  
"Legolas would be eternally grateful if we did. It was rather terrifying  
to see the King riding toward us, his eyes flashing fiercely, Celeb Baudh  
glittering like cold fire. Ai! It was frightening!"

"I think those Orcs thought so as well," Tavor added, with a smile.

"Did you see the look on the big one's face? I couldn't tell if he was  
afraid of him or admiring him."

"The one that Legolas was bashing looked absolutely enraptured!  
Didn't you think so, Tanglinna? Tanglinna?" Brethil scowled. "Where is  
he?"

Behind them they heard a small splash and then Tanglinna rejoined  
them. The King's fair brow was bereft of its ornamentation. The Archer  
raised one brow and moved ahead of them.

"This is going to be rather interesting," Brethil said quietly with a  
smile.

 

 

 

 

A few days later Legolas' eyes focused and he stared at the ceiling.  
He felt fine and he grinned, suddenly getting out of the bed.

"He's awake!" Brethil exclaimed, scrambling from the chair he had  
been curled in.

Tavor drew a deep, steadying breath and pushed off the wall where he  
had been leaning.

"Are you ready?" Legolas asked, hurried splashing water on his face.

"For - what?" Tavor asked, wondering what Legolas would remember.  
He glanced over at Brethil, who shrugged, biting at his lips.

"Don't you remember? We are going to push Gwibess into Morn Nen to  
try and tame her. Where is she?"

The two friends exchanged glances as they watched the prince dry his  
face.

"Well, Legolas, you see -" Brethil began.

"No, Brethil!" Tavor interjected. "I will tell him!"

"You will? Very well. I haven't been able to make up anything to  
tell him yet anyhow. I am no good at subterfuge."

Legolas turned to him, drying his face.

"What is going on?" He asked suspiciously. "Have you lost the  
spider?"

"No," Tavor began slowly. He wasn't very good at subterfuge either,  
much to his dismay. "We haven't lost Gwibess. Er, have we?" He looked at  
Brethil who was staring pointed at Legolas as if he was trying to think of  
something he had forgotten. "Or perhaps we have," Tavor continued, his  
face brightening. "Yes - yes! We lost, Gwibess! That is why we can't take  
her to Morn Nen today." He smiled, quite pleased with himself. Maybe he  
was good at subterfuge. "Exactly. That is it!" He gazed triumphantly at  
Brethil, expecting to see a gleam of appreciation that told of Tavor's  
genius, but Brethil's brows were knot and he looked troubled, his grey eyes  
fixed on the prince.

Legolas scowled fiercely at them both.

"What is going on?!" He demanded.

"Nothing is going on. Nothing at all. Why do you ask?" Tavor  
sputtered, feeling panic well within him.

Brethil shook his head slightly.

"I will think of it later," he concluded quietly before turning to  
Legolas. "You must be very hungry."

Thranduil's son frowned. He was feeling a bit hollow.

"After all," Brethil continued. "You haven't eaten for days."

"Days?" Mirkwood's prince gazed at him in bewilderment. "What are  
you talking about, Brethil?"

"He didn't mean days!" Tavor choked. "He meant HOURS! Didn't you,  
Brethil?" He glared pointedly at his friend. "HOURS not DAYS!"

"What? Oh! Yes! Days I meant DAYS! No? Oh! Hours! Yes, HOURS!  
I meant HOURS! I really did, Legolas. Hours! That is what I meant!"

Brethil smiled in relief over at Tavor to reassure him that the slip surely  
went unnoticed, but for some reason Tavor looked rather stricken.

Legolas regarded his best friends with suspicion.

"What is going on?" He asked, wondering if he truly wanted to know.

"Nothing," Tavor said, cutting Brethil off even as he drew a breath  
to begin. "Nothing. We will go find Gwibess after you eat something."

Mirkwood's youngest prince raised one brow, but decided not to pursue  
the matter.

"Very well. I hope we can find her again. She seemed nice for a  
spider."

"Here!" Tavor thrust clothing into his arms. "Get dressed, you need  
to be in the sun and the wind today."

Legolas looked at his friend with concern. He looked rather  
panicked.

"Breathe in, breathe out, Tavor. You look ready to faint. - What  
have we done now? We haven't done anything, have we?" He searched his  
memory, but could think of nothing. He slipped out of his nightshirt and  
into his leggings and tunic.

"I am not going to faint!" Tavor protested, though he doubted the  
veracity of that statement. His heart was pounding unmercifully in his  
chest. ~This might just kill me~ he thought desperately. ~I need to calm  
down! If I don't then who will shut Brethil up? ~ He drew several deep  
breaths and closed his eyes, willing the anxiety to dissipate.

"That was it!" Brethil exclaimed suddenly, his grey eyes bright.

"Keep him away from the mirror!"

Legolas turned toward him. Tavor's eyes widened and he wondered  
which desire was greater: to strangle Brethil with his own hair or to go  
instantly to Mandos Halls to escape this.

"Why do you need to keep me away from the mirror? What is going  
on?!" Legolas, of course, turned to move back toward the mirror.

"Masters?"

They all turned toward the creaky voice. Tavor gasped and clutched  
his heart.

Gwibess' head appeared at the window, one long leg brushing aside the  
hanging.

"Oh, no!" Tavor moaned. "Not now! Not now!"

"You are awake, Master Let Go Lass! Oh! I was so worried!"

Legolas stared at the spider in wonder and amazement.

"What did she say?"

"She said, 'You are awake, Master Let Go Lass. Oh! I was so  
worried!'."

"Brethil!" Tavor wheezed.

"What? I was just answering his question. It would be impolite to  
ignore him after all he has been through."

Legolas felt his knees quake and he staggered toward the chair. He  
was about to collapse into it, his head feeling very funny and light, when  
a voice yelped,

"No, Prince Legolas! Don't sit on me!"

The prince gasped and staggered away from the chair, his blue eyes  
wide.

"Who said that?!"

Tavor stilled suddenly, thinking he had heard the sweet, quiet strain  
of music that must fill the Halls of Mandos.

"Masters?" Gwibess watched them with worry in her great eyes.

"Who did say that?" Brethil asked. "Was it the funny furry-footed  
Dwarf?" He grinned. "Don't worry Let Go Lass - uh, Legolas. He is not  
Silivren Hithlain Man. He has told me so himself. Bilbo and I have had  
some interesting conversations the last few days. He was worried about  
you, too! He has your Bubble Pipe though, if you need it."

"No, Brethil. No, Brethil. No, Brethil." Tavor moaned again and  
again. For some odd reason no other words would form.

"Who is Bilbo?" Legolas gasped, staring at the empty chair.

"Oh, dear," the disembodied voice said. "It is just like Bombur.  
Poor Legolas. You don't remember a thing, do you?"

"What?" Legolas gasped. "What?"

"No, Bilbo. No, Bilbo. No, Bilbo." Tavor wondered what had  
happened to him. Why couldn't he speak?

"Masters?" Gwibess felt so worried over them, that she had managed  
to wedge her body in the window once more and was flailing wildly trying to  
get free.

Suddenly Bilbo pulled off his Ring and appeared right in front of  
Legolas who gasped and staggered backwards, landing on his rump by the bed.

"It is alright, PrinceLegolas. Really. We do know one another, you  
just don't remember. I guess that means you have forgotten the pipeweed as  
well. But that is a good thing. Really! Poor Gloin. You have forgotten  
him too. That will break his heart! But at least he has a remembrance of  
you." Bilbo shook his head sadly at the distressed look on his friend's  
face. "I am sorry that all this has happened. It will all be over soon.  
I promise."

Just then the door opened and Tanglinna stuck his head in.

"The King is awake," he stated his eyes worried. Then he saw Legolas  
cowering by his bed, his eyes filled with dismay. The Master Archer noted  
Tavor's muttering, Brethil's smile, the strange furry-footed Dwarf, and the  
spider stuck in the window. "Great Valar!" He muttered. "Here we go  
again!"


	28. What is Missing?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Hobbit AU. While the Dwarves are imprisoned in Thranduil's dungeons, Bilbo meets Legolas quite by accident. We find out why Elves don't smoke pipeweed.

King Thranduil of Mirkwood paced his chamber, his mind happily going  
over the details of the Autumn Feast. For some reason he felt that he  
should be in a very bad mood, but he wasn't. He had already discussed food  
and wine with the chefs (after devouring some - he had been rather hungry  
for some reason), and decorations and clothing. Everyone was so eager to  
please that it was rather gratifying. Only one thing troubled him. It  
seemed that Legolas' green outfit was missing. Ceredirhammad had already  
agreed to make another one, mentioning something about webs and hair that  
probably wouldn't come off anyway. This had confused the king, and he  
would have to speak with his son about it. Something was going on. The  
prince had never liked dressing in fancy clothing and had probably hidden  
it away somewhere that he shouldn't have. He chuckled slightly, nearly  
forgetting the seamstress strange words. None of his sons liked the  
shining clothes they had to wear on occasions like these feasts, or the  
beautiful, cunningly woven wreaths of bright flowers. But they did look  
nice when all was said and done.

There was a knock at the door and Thranduil turned to see Tanglinna  
peering around it cautiously.

"Ah! There you are!" The king exclaimed. "Is Legolas with you?"

"Yes, your Majesty. He is."

The Master Archer pulled the rather reluctant younger Elf into the  
room with a stern glance and pushed him toward his father.

"Legolas, what have you done now?" Thranduil asked, crossing his  
arms over his chest.

If the prince hadn't been so worried he might have noticed the amused  
twinkle in his father's eyes. But he swallowed nervously. All the things  
that Tavor, Brethil, Tanglinna, Bilbo, and yes, even Gwibess had told him -  
they had finally managed to squeeze her in through the window - swirled in  
his head, which already felt very odd. Unfortunately they had told him all  
the things that he should NOT tell the king.

"Why are you telling me this?" He had asked, a panicked note in his  
voice. "If you don't want me to tell him, then why tell ME?"

They had tried to reassure him that all would be well, and Tanglinna  
had told Brethil to shut up several times, but Legolas knew it wouldn't be  
well. He was overloaded with information that he did not want, and he  
couldn't remember on his own. Thus it was that he stared up at his father,  
with a helpless, slightly dazed look on his face.

"What have I been up to?" He asked, blinking several times. What  
hadn't he done now? From what they had told him, there wasn't much he  
hadn't done lately. He glanced nervously at Tanglinna hoping the Master  
Archer would rescue him, but Tanglinna looked pointedly away from him,  
effectively telling him he was on his own.

"I - I - nothing. Why?"

"It seems that something is missing." Thranduil said, lifting one  
brow.

"Something is missing?" The prince looked again at the archer who  
seemed engrossed with the ceiling. Legolas blinked again and frowned.  
Surely it was something they had told him about. He searched his mind and  
found there were several things that could be considered missing. The last  
one mentioned by Brethil came to mind. He cleared his throat, which sent  
sudden shudders down Tanglinna's spine. "Do you mean.Celeb Baudh?"

"No!" Tanglinna hissed, glaring at him. Then he felt the king's gaze  
on him and turned to see Thranduil's eyes fixed on him. He smiled weakly  
and shrugged, looking up at the ceiling once again and began to offer  
supplications to Elbereth. Why had he thrown that circlet into Morn Nen in  
the first place? How could he possibly have thought it was a good idea?  
Ai, sweet Elbereth, none of them was going to survive this!

"Celeb Baudh?" Thranduil repeated, his blue gaze moving to Legolas.

"What do you mean?"

Legolas' gaze shifted from one to the other. That had obviously not  
been the one to mention.

"Nothing - Um - Then you mean -" he glanced at Tanglinna once more.

"Stop that!" Thranduil barked, feeling the bad mood coming on him  
full force. "Answer my question and look at ME when you do it!"

"Um - then you mean -" He turned back to his father, reaching back  
to one of the first things they had told him. "The boat?"

Thranduil's eyes narrowed.

"What boat?"

"The boat on Morn Nen that Tavor, Brethil, and I use sometimes."

Suddenly he gasped. "I didn't mean to say Morn Nen!" He choked, his eyes  
widening. "Forget I said Morn Nen! No! No! I don't mean, "forget", I  
mean -"

"Shut up, Prince Legolas!" Tanglinna hissed, his hands clenching on  
his tunic.

"What is going on?" The king demanded. His head felt very, very  
strange suddenly and he didn't like it. No, he didn't like it at all.

Legolas frowned again, feeling panic rising in him. What was wrong  
with him? Why couldn't he think of what his father meant and simply tell  
him what he wanted to hear?

"I - I meant the spiders? They are missing? Right? The ones that  
-er - painted your face? Right?" He glanced at Tanglinna to verify this  
statement, but the archer was muttering something under his breath. "Or  
was it that they stole the jewels and - and - your - robes?" He finished,  
his voice dying away to a whisper. "No," he continued heedlessly as his  
father's eyes widened, his face suffused with color. "I can see that is  
not it. Then you mean -"

"WHAT IS GOING ON??!!"

"I - I - I don't know! Oh, Adar I am so sorry, but I "don't" know  
what is going on!" Legolas buried his head in his hands, fingers digging  
into his hair.

Thranduil, placed his hands on his temples, willing himself to  
calmness. Something very strange was going on of that he was certain. He  
took a deep breath.

"I simply meant where is the green outfit?" He said, trying to be  
patient.

"Green outfit?" Legolas drew a shaky breath and looked up. Green  
outfit. He could do this. He really could.

"The green outfit?" He nodded. They had mentioned a green outfit.

"The sparkly green one?" He smiled, feeling that he had finally gotten the  
answer right.

"It wasn't sparkly green." Thranduil said, his eyes going to the  
archer, and Tanglinna knew his time on Arda was running short. "It was a  
shimmery green, not sparkly."

"The green outfit," Legolas murmured. "But "not" the sparkly green one.  
Just the shimmery green one. Yes -well-" Something pricked in his mind,  
something one of them had said not to mention. "The one - the one I was  
wearing when - " He shook his head, everything he had been told in such a  
rush earlier had jumbled all together.

"You haven't worn it yet, little Greenleaf," Thranduil said with a  
frown. "Or have you?"

Tanglinna swallowed nervously, glancing from the king to his son.

~This cannot be happening! This cannot be happening. Just when I  
thought everything would be better, it is getting worse!~

Legolas' eyes shot to him, full of trepidation.

"Did I wear it?" He asked the archer. "Or didn't I?"

Thranduil's eyes narrowed. Something was going on. He knew it. He  
folded his arms about his chest and cocked his head on one side, his  
nostrils flared as he drew a deep breath.

"You were going to say what, Tanglinna?" He growled.

~Why did I have to be the one to escort him here? Why didn't I just  
send someone else - anyone else! ~ He thought frantically. He could  
picture himself polishing jewels for the next one thousand years in the  
kings gem room. It was not a pleasant thought. He frowned. He wished he

"were" in the gem room polishing jewels right now actually!

"I was not going to say anything, your Majesty. Nothing at all."

~Father isn't supposed to remember either! ~ Legolas told himself,  
trying to find any reassurance that he could. ~Why does he remember the  
green outfit - the "shimmery" green outfit if I cannot? If I can just keep  
from saying anything that I don't remember - that I am not supposed to say  
\- ~ He cut the thought off as it didn't sound right and it made his head  
feel rather strange and light. He swallowed and glanced at Tanglinna,  
whose face was inscrutable as always. He had already said too many things  
that he didn't remember and was not supposed to say.

Thranduil looked down at him, a look of great annoyance on his face.

"Where is your green outfit?" He repeated, trying to calm himself.  
He would not allow them to upset him any more. He was in control. He was  
the king!

"Green outfit." Legolas gaze swept to Tanglinna, he felt exhausted.

"The one for the Autumn Feast, my prince. The shimmery one," the  
archer prompted hastily, not looking at the king. No, not looking at the  
king at all.

Legolas blinked. Why couldn't he remember the shimmery green outfit  
if his father did? All he could recall was the sparkly green one they had  
told him about, but his father didn't mean that one.

"Oh? - Yes! I - Where is it?" He looked from Thranduil to Tanglinna  
once more. His brows knit in concentration. ~I can do this. I can do  
this!~

Thranduil glared at him and shook his head.

"What have you done now, little Greenleaf?" He asked again,  
repeating the original question that had started all this nonsense.

"Done? Nothing that I can remember." He answered honestly and then  
grinned. ~What a clever answer~, he thought, perhaps he could get through  
this after all. Why hadn't he said this earlier and saved himself all this  
trouble? ~I can do this!~ He thought triumphantly. ~Yes, I can!~

Thranduil shook his head. It really didn't matter where the green  
outfit was. It really didn't matter and besides, he needed to lie down.

"A new one is being made for you. Just - just make certain that it  
doesn't disappear before tomorrow evening."

"Tomorrow evening?"

"The Feast, little Greenleaf."

"Oh, yes - the feast! Well - well - I will be there? Again?" He  
glanced Tanglinna, who shook his head and sighed.

~Again?~ Thranduil thought with a start. ~No - no. I will not even  
ask.~

"Is there anything further that you need from him, your Majesty?"

The archer asked, wanting to hustle the prince from the room as quickly as  
possible.

Thranduil sighed.

"Yes - just - just go away both of you." His hand moved to his  
temples. "To think I felt so good earlier. I need some tea. Strong tea."

Tanglinna grabbed Legolas arm and was about to haul him from the room  
when Thranduil turned to them, his eyes weary.

"Legolas, please do not -" the words died in his throat. His mouth  
fell open in surprise and he scowled, leaning forward. "What happened to  
your hair?!"

"What?" Legolas frowned. "Nothing." His hands moved upward.

"Oh, no." Tanglinna breathed and wondered if they would notice if he  
ran from the room, ears covered, shrieking like a certain blonde beast that  
he knew only too well.

"Your left warrior braid! Where is it!" Thranduil moved across the  
space between them and cupped his son's chin in his hand, tilting his head  
to the right. A braid had been made somewhat further back on his son's  
head than normal, but the short tufts of hair stuck out at angles from his  
face. He frowned. "What happened?! It looks as if it has been cut off!"

Legolas fingers found their way to the spot and jerked the short  
hair. A look of horror spread over his face. Brethil's words flitted  
through his mind: "Keep him away from the mirror!" He gulped for breathe  
and pulled away from his father and ran to stare into the silvered glass.

"No.no." he murmured, looking in shock at what he saw. His left  
warrior braid was gone! "nonononononono......."

Tanglinna sighed.

"He has seen it," he muttered, reaching up to cover his ears as a  
shriek filled the air, shaking the palace to its very foundations. The  
young blonde beast was nearly as loud as the father.

In Legolas' room Tavor, Brethil, Bilbo, and Gwibess looked at one  
another and shook their heads in pity and sympathy.

"He has seen it," they all murmured. "Poor Legolas!"


	29. Bubble Pipes and Red Handkerchiefs

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Hobbit AU. While the Dwarves are imprisoned in Thranduil's dungeons, Bilbo meets Legolas quite by accident. We find out why Elves don't smoke pipeweed.

Prince Legolas was seated on the edge of his bed, dressed in a  
shimmery green outfit, a bright wreath of flowers lying on the bed beside  
him. His father had ordered him to be dosed with Vandal Root tea - very,  
very strong Vandal Root tea - so strong that he had slept both the day and  
the night away in pleasant dreams. He had awakened this morning feeling  
mildly groggy; Gwibess crouched by his bed dressed in the original green  
robes. He had started slightly, still not used to the fact that he was  
already Master Let Go Lass; and had been for some time now.

"Oh, Master!" The spider had hissed, rising to her full height.

"You're awake! You're awake!"

He managed to grimace at her, hoping that it would pass for a smile,  
and was rewarded by a pat on the head with one long, furry leg. He  
wondered briefly where Tavor and Brethil were but guessed that they had  
thought it best to leave him alone for a while. He had refused to look in  
the mirror, and had a battle with his fingers, yanking at the offending  
hand whenever it crept upward toward his hair.

Earlier that day, Tanglinna had come to him bearing the shimmering  
green robes just finished by Ceredirhammad. The Master Archer couldn't  
decide if he was highly amused or greatly annoyed. Legolas had stared at  
them in horror, starting to his feet.

"Tanglinna, I -"

"Your father commands it, my prince," he said with a slight grimace.  
~Here we go again indeed! ~

"But Tanglinna -"

"You had better dress. Your father is expecting you, my prince." He  
handed him the soft clothing, then stood with his arms folded over his  
chest waiting for the prince to get dressed. The grumbling and growling  
started just as he had expected and he had to suppress a grin.

"You look most, uh, beautiful, my prince," he said, biting at his  
lips to keep from laughing in amusement at the look on the other's fair  
face. Amusement had won out over annoyance.

"I look like a girl!" The prince spat, flapping his arms like an  
over large green butterfly. "This is ridiculous. I think father just does  
this to torture me." He frowned suddenly, his head feeling very strange.

"Have we had this conversation before?" He asked, touching his forehead.

Tanglinna merely smiled.

"You are not quite ready, my prince. One more thing is required."

"What else could this outfit possibly require?"

Tanglinna moved into the hall and returned bearing a wreath much like  
the other one of small green leaves, and berries trailing strands of white  
flowers. Only this one bore large orange lilies as well.

"For your hair," Tanglinna said handing it to him with a smirk. He  
had then turned and let the room grinning.

Legolas shook his head and sighed, staring at the wreath. The last  
day had been unbelievable and it would appear that the last few weeks had  
been as well. This wreath was unbelievable.

While he was sitting on the bed, pointedly not looking at the floral  
creation, the door swung open and then closed. Bilbo suddenly appeared,  
causing him to jump slightly. The Hobbit smiled as he slipped the Ring  
into his waistcoat pocket.

"I didn't mean to startle you, Prince Legolas."

The Elf smiled wryly as the small figure clambered up onto the bed to  
sit beside him.

"How are you feeling? Have you remembered anything yet?"

"No," Legolas sighed, slim fingers tracing a pattern on the bed's  
embroidered cover. "Not yet. Not on my own anyway. Just that I really  
need to keep my mouth shut."

Bilbo smiled.

"That does seem to be a problem around here. Don't worry. You will  
remember it all in time, I am sure."

"Has your friend Bumbury remembered yet?"

Bilbo grinned and patted Legolas' arm.

"No, uh, Bombur has not. You're an Elf though so perhaps your memory  
will return more quickly."

"Then my father's will as well," he grimaced, staring at the wall.

"I hope to be far from here that day."

The Hobbit shifted slightly. He suddenly realized just how much he  
would miss this merry prince.

"Speaking of far from here -" He turned to look at the Elf. "The  
Dwarves and I are leaving. Very soon."

Legolas turned to look at him. He was surprised that he would miss  
the Hobbit, whom he had just met - a few weeks ago truly, but met again for  
just one day.

"Did I know that?" He asked wryly, with a smile.

"Well, I suppose that you did. Did you think we would stay here  
forever?"

The prince grinned down at him.

"Nay, I suppose not. Where are you going? I don't think you ever  
told me." Suddenly he laughed. "Even if you had I would have forgotten!"

Bilbo chuckled.

"That is true enough. I don't believe I did tell you, but - well, I  
don't think Thorin wanted your father to know where we were going."

"Then whatever you do DON'T tell me!" Mirkwood's prince continued to  
laugh. "That would be disastrous!"

The two laughed together for some time and Bilbo knew he would indeed  
miss the prince. He had enjoyed spending time with him, though he still  
felt guilty about the pipeweed.

"Thorin is in rather something of a hurry. He is getting rather  
impatient. Not that I can blame him. He has been shut in that cell for  
quite some time now. I am the only one having any fun," he grinned.

"Is he - is he the one I gave my hair to?" He grabbed at his  
hand as it reached slyly toward his hair.

"No, that was Gloin. He on the other hand doesn't wish to leave. He  
is rather distressed by your dilemma."

Legolas frowned. It was rather disconcerting that a Dwarf was so  
concerned about him.

"But we are going. Though Bombur has created something for your feast  
and would love to know what your father thinks of it," Bilbo continued.

"Oh, bother! I suppose it wasn't wise to share that with you either! It is  
meant to be a surprise."

Legolas grinned.

"Perhaps I can manage not to say anything about it. I will try my  
best. I promise! Father would be very surprised to learn that a Dwarf  
made something for him to eat."

Bilbo smiled at him and patted his hand.

"It has been wonderful getting to know you and I shall miss you. I  
won't forget my time here. I may even write all this down someday. It  
would make a most interesting book, don't you think?"

"Uh, please don't write this part. I mean - uh, well - just skip the  
parts I have forgotten."

Bilbo laughed at the fair face, so twisted with embarrassment.

"Don't worry. I wouldn't do that to you. But it would make an  
interesting few chapters. Good heavens! So much has happened since  
entering Mirkwood, it would take nearly a whole book to record it all!"

"I almost hope that I "don't" remember what happened. From what you  
have all told me it sounded as if I have acted rather - er, foolishly."

"No, I wouldn't say that exactly. Though it has been rather amusing.  
But I do apologize about the pipeweed. I really didn't know how you would  
react. I guess that is why I have never seen an Elf smoking before." The  
Hobbit shook his head. "I wonder if Elrond would react that way."

Legolas couldn't suppress the grin that toyed on his lips.

"Perhaps some day you should ask him about the "Morn Nen" wine that  
we sent him. I wish I could have seen that! How long do you suppose he  
forgot things?"

"You sent Elrond Morn Nen wine? I didn't know that. That was rather  
wicked of you, Prince Legolas," Bilbo said, though he grinned at the  
thought. "One day I will have to ask him all about it. Perhaps he knows a  
quick cure then! That was very - daring of you to send that to him."

"Yes, I was young and foolish. What can I say?" He grinned widely  
at the Hobbit, noticing that a button on his waistcoat was missing. "I  
have that button. Let me get it for you!"

It wasn't until he had crossed the room and was rummaging in a box on  
the dresser that he realized what he had said.

"I - I remembered that, didn't I?"

"Wonderful! You are starting to get your memory back. I wonder why  
you are and poor Bombur hasn't yet."

Legolas found the button lying beside the Angol Osp Echor, the dragon-  
headed bubble pipe. He stared down at it and then drew it out as well.

"Bilbo, I want you to have this." He said handing him the pipe along  
with the button. "Something to remember me by," he continued with an  
amused look. "Not that "you" will forget it."

Bilbo held the pipe in his hand and smiled gently.

"Thank you, Prince Legolas. I will cherish it always. I may need it  
before my journey is over. Who knows." He thought of the dragon that lay  
ahead in the Lonely Mountain. Perhaps he would need it. "Though - if you  
don't mind I know a little Hobbit who will like it quite a lot and I should  
like to give it to her when my own adventure is over. Her mother will  
appreciate it since she is rather taken with Elves herself. She will think  
it wonderful to touch something once owned by the Elf Prince of Mirkwood."

He grinned thinking of Little Pip and her rather silly mother. "The child  
has this fear of spiders, imagine that. Perhaps she can use this to help  
her."

"That would make me very happy. Tell her for me that spiders really  
aren't so bad," he laughed. Afraid of spiders! Imagine that indeed! "Oh,  
and take her this wreath as well!" He ruffled the leaves with his fingers.

"I don't think your father would like that very much. I don't want  
him angry with you again so soon. I would love to give you something to  
remember me by, though I don't suppose you want my pipe," Bilbo grinned.  
"That would indeed make the king very, very mad."

Legolas laughed, wondering if he would laugh when he entirely  
recovered his memory of that night. Or more importantly when his father  
remembered.

"Nay, that would probably not be a good thing."

"How about this?" He pulled out a clean red handkerchief. "This is  
one of the ones Elrond gave to me."

Legolas raised one eyebrow.

"Red?"

Bilbo grinned as the Elf took the square of red silk.

"Rather a bright color for the Lord of Rivendell, isn't it?" He  
agreed. "I understand from Lord Glorfindel that he has an entire drawer  
filled with them. Elrond is a mysterious person." He shook his head, and  
then sighed. "I suppose I had better be going then. I must watch for my  
chance to free the Dwarves after all." He solemnly extended a hand to the  
prince of Mirkwood. Legolas took it, squeezing it in a friendly manner.

"I hope that the rest of your adventure is as enjoyable as this one  
was - er is." He shrugged. "Are you certain I can't interest you in this  
wreath? Perhaps Gloin would like it. Though I haven't worn it yet, and  
there are no stray hairs caught in it," he giggled, thrusting the wreath  
onto his blonde head. "That was rather silly of me - cutting off my  
warrior braid and giving it to a Dwarf."

"You did make him very happy. Perhaps some day he will share it with  
his son, you know, the story of the fair Elf maiden of Mirkwood and then  
his son will fall in love with Legolas the Sparkly Green as well."

Legolas laughed, an image of himself in a sparkling robe of green and  
ridiculously tasteless circlet, blowing bubbles and singing the barrel song  
with a Dwarf.

"Then I hope to meet his son someday," he said, knowing that it would  
never happen in all the Ages of Middle Earth. "I shall charm him myself  
and have another conquest. We shall be the greatest of friends and people  
will wonder at that. A Dwarf and an Elf best friends! All because of a  
warrior braid given to his father so long ago."

Bilbo chuckled at the amusing, if impossible image.

"That would be something indeed. I hope to see it!" He slid from  
the bed and stood looking up at the prince who rose to his wreath perched  
on his head. "Farewell, Prince Legolas of Mirkwood."

"Farewell, Bilbo. Tell Gloin -er and the others - that I wish them a  
safe and -er profitable journey." He laughed They are Dwarves after all.  
There must be a treasure to be had in it somewhere. A treasure not  
consisting of spun gold Elf hair." He grinned and then said quietly "I  
hope to meet you again some time."

"That would be my fondest wish." The Hobbit bowed low and  
gracefully.

Legolas bowed and smiled at the Hobbit.

"Namarie, nin mellon."

Bilbo nodded, and turned to leave clutching his bubble pipe in one  
hand. He would miss the prince very much. He slipped on his Ring and  
vanished.

Legolas stared at the door as it opened and closed seemingly on its  
own.

"Good bye, Bilbo Baggins of the Shire."


	30. Out of the Hall of the Wood Elf King

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Hobbit AU. While the Dwarves are imprisoned in Thranduil's dungeons, Bilbo meets Legolas quite by accident. We find out why Elves don't smoke pipeweed.

Bilbo Baggins was indeed a lucky Hobbit. He had hoped that an  
opportunity would present itself during yet another feast taking place in  
the Hall above. It would be easier to slip out undetected when the Elves  
were involved with other things. When he heard the King's butler telling  
the chief of guards goodnight after the evening meal had been served to the  
Dwarves - and then hear the two decide to scamper off to sample some  
excellent Dorwinion wine - he knew that his luck had served him well indeed  
this night.

Tonight was the night that he and the Dwarves would leave the Hall of  
the Wood Elf king!

He followed after the two on silent, invisible feet. The Elves  
seated themselves at a small table, two great silver bowls and a pitcher of  
the fragrant, heady wine was soon before them. It was a potent wine, one  
meant for delicate glasses to be sipped with a delicious meal, not gulped  
by a soldier and a servant out of rather large drinking bowls. They were  
soon chattering away at one another about the spill the king and his son  
had taken into Morn Nen.

"Here is to the wonderful water of Morn Nen!" Galion the butler  
chortled. "It has brought us yet another feast. At least until the king  
remembers."

"It has brought us this wonderful wine as well," Ecthelhador laughed,  
clinking their bowls together.

"Here is to the King's memory! May it stay lost - at least until  
this night is over!"

Bilbo covered his mouth with his hand to stop the laughter from  
bubbling over his lips. Really, Wood Elves could be quite silly!

Galion was deep in conversation about all that had happened since the  
Dwarves' arrival when Ecthelhador blinked slowly several times. He then  
lay his head down on the table and began to snore softly.

Bilbo smiled again. Luck was indeed with him!

Galion continued to talk for some time, unaware that his companion  
was no longer listening to him.

"Do you suppose Legolas the Sparkly Green will make another  
appearance? I truly wish that I had been down here that night!" He  
exclaimed, slurring the words slightly. "He is dressed in green tonight -  
again!" He grinned suddenly. "With bright orange lilies in his hair!" He  
laughed out loud, taking another swallow of the excellent wine. "At least  
he isn't in that pink tunic tonight. Do you remember that one? It  
disappeared somewhat mysteriously from what I have heard." He yawned  
widely and blinked, staring somewhat blurrily at Ecthelhador . "Are you  
asleep?" He asked, stifling another yawn and hiccupping slightly. He was  
feeling somewhat sleepy himself. He passed a slim hand over his face,  
brushing aside a stray strand of silvery hair. "I hope King Thranduil  
isn't upset with us all when he realizes what has happened. Letting him  
think that - this was the - Autumn Feast - and all." His head dipped  
lower. No one would notice if he took a quick nap. The Dwarves were fed  
and locked up tight. He laid his heavy head on the table and was instantly  
asleep, eyes vacant and staring.

Bilbo waited a moment before moving into action. It still unnerved  
him to see the Elves sleeping with their eyes open. He crept across the  
hall, taking the heavy iron ring of keys from Ecthelhador's leather belt.  
He gritted his teeth and froze when they clanked together noisily. But the  
chief of the guards merely murmured something then turned his head to the  
wall, still sleeping soundly.

The Hobbit moved away from the two Elves and hurried off to the  
Dwarves' cells. He unlocked Balin's door first, startling the old Dwarf  
who was settling down for the night. But he was very pleased when he saw  
Bilbo standing there carrying the keys.

"Thank you, Bilbo," he said "I knew you would get us out of here at  
last! You are a very clever Hobbit."

Bilbo blushed under the praise and smiled.

"What is your plan?" Balin continued. "How will you get us free of  
this place?"

"I have no time to discuss it now, Balin. We must get the others out  
and be on our way as quickly as possible! This is our last chance! If we  
are caught who knows what the King will do to you next!" He shuddered to  
think of how angry Thranduil would be when his memory returned only to find  
that the Dwarves had tried to escape on top of it! "He will probably chain  
you up somewhere, hands and feet!"

They hustled down the hall to the other cells. Bombur, who had spent  
a great deal of time in the Elves' kitchens lately was quite sorry to see  
it all ending.

"How will I ever know if he liked what I prepared for him?" He asked  
morosely.

"You can talk to him at some other time!" Bilbo exclaimed, hissing  
them all to silence as he unlocked Gloin's cell. "But we must make haste!"

He lived in fear that the two Elves would awaken and catch them. Or worse  
yet, that the King would regain his memory and come storming down to the  
cells to check on the prisoners.

Gloin squinted at them, his hand over his heart.

"Are you ready to go, Gloin?" Bilbo asked him tenderly as the Dwarf  
joined them.

He nodded, his head bent, fingers twined in his dirty hood.

Balin sighed and patted his shoulder.

"You will meet - er - "her" again, I am sure, Gloin. But we must be  
going. The Dragon awaits," he reassured. He still wasn't positive himself  
about the Prince or Princess. But he was eager to be on his way just the  
same.

Gloin merely nodded and as they traveled down the hall bumping and  
stumbling into one another in the dark, they could hear him softly singing,

"Fair as a rose in May,  
Elven maiden with hair of gold."

At last they arrived at Thorin's cell, which was closest to their  
destination. The Dwarf leader was rather amazed at the sight of them all  
standing outside his cell, quite unharmed.

"Upon my word!" He exclaimed. "Gandalf spoke true, as usual! A  
pretty fine burglar you make, it seems, when the time comes. I am sure we  
are all forever at your service, whatever happens after this. But what  
comes next?"

Bilbo drew a deep breath and began to tell them of his plan. He knew  
that he would encounter opposition, after all, the Dwarves had been trapped  
in their tiny cells for many weeks now and would not take kindly to being  
stuffed into barrels for an unknown amount of time, floating off down the  
river and out of the forest.

"We shall be all bruised and battered to pieces!" Nori squeaked.

"And drowned, too, for certain." Bifur muttered.

"We thought you had some sensible notion, when you managed to get  
hold of the keys. This is madness!" Dwalin huffed.

Bilbo sighed dejectedly.

"Very well! Come along back to your nice cells, and I will lock you  
all in again, and you can sit there comfortably and think of a better plan  
\- but I don't suppose I shall ever get hold of the keys again, even if I  
feel inclined to try."

Bombur was nodding. He was all for staying, and then he would find  
out what the king thought of his food. Gloin looked hopefully at Thorin,  
but knew they would leave this night. As he trudged after Bilbo toward the  
lowest cellars he glanced back up the hall where they had come from.

"Crowned with flowers bright as day.  
You've touched my heart once stony and cold."

He knew a piece of his heart would always reside here in Mirkwood  
with a golden haired Elf maiden named Legolas the Sparkly Green.

~I should have brought him the wreath, ~ Bilbo thought with a sigh.  
~Or at least one of the lilies!

Bilbo had stuffed the Dwarves into their barrels, padding them  
with some straw that he had found trying to make them as comfortable as  
possible. Bombur was delighted with his, as it still smelt of the apples  
that had been packed in it. The Hobbit had just finished shutting in a  
very grumbly, growly Thorin when he heard voices and saw the flicker of  
lights. Soon a number of Elves entered the cellars talking and laughing.  
They began to hunt for old Galion whom it seemed was late bringing up the  
wine. They found him and Ecthelhador sleeping peacefully, faces contented  
and happy in their dreaming state. They soon woke the butler who was not  
at all pleased at having his slumber interrupted. They of course had to  
sample the excellent Dorwinion wine for themselves and soon found out why  
the butler had been somewhat remiss in his duties to the king.

"Get on with the work!" Galion growled at them urging them to dump  
the empty barrels into the water and send them on their way. The younger  
Elves complained that the barrels did not feel empty and that they would  
not take the blame if the king's butter tubs and best wine were pushed into  
the river by mistake. It seemed that the king was acting rather strangely  
just at present and they feared that his odd mood might turn onto them.

Bilbo, invisible once again, watched as one by one the barrels were  
rolled down into the tunnel leading to the river to the accompaniment of  
the Barrel Song. He bit at his bottom lip hoping that the Dwarves would be  
all right. But then he realized something he had not thought of. What was  
he to do with himself? He certainly didn't wish to stay here forever,  
creeping about the Halls with only Legolas and his friends for company.  
Besides, the Dwarves wouldn't know what to do without him!

As the very last barrel was rolled to the doors, he caught hold of it  
and felt it drop into the cold water below. He clung to it with all his  
strength feeling the barrel roll, sending him beneath the water and then  
righting itself. But as he scrambled about he found that the barrel  
continued to roll because it was actually an empty barrel. He floated with  
it out the doors and into the tunnel leading to the river beyond. He could  
still hear the song of the Elves behind him and then he heard the water-  
gate close with a boom. The voices became fainter and then faded away.

~Good bye, Prince Legolas, ~ he thought silently. ~I hope we may  
meet again someday! ~

 

 

 

 

He wasn't certain of the exact moment the first memory crept in upon  
him. He had been enjoying the feasting , the singing, the dancing, and the  
general merriment. His eyes slid amongst his fair folk, pleased by their  
happy countenances, and bright clothing. His eyes came to rest on his  
youngest son, the orange lilies catching his attention. He smiled  
indulgently at his son who had not made even one complaint this evening  
about his shimmery green outfit and floral wreath.

~Yes, ~ he thought with great satisfaction. ~He is learning!  
Perhaps that pink outfit did the trick ---~ He frowned. Pink outfit? The  
frown deepened to a scowl. He plucked up his goblet and took a swallow of  
the wine. Where was Galion with the good Dorwinion stuff? WHAT PINK  
OUTFIT??!!

He turned to glare at his Master Archer who was seated to his left.  
Tanglinna, feeling his king's gaze upon him, turned slightly. Instantly he  
knew there was trouble.

"Is something wrong, your Majesty?" He asked, hoping that his voice  
didn't betray his anxiety.

"Yes, Tanglinna, there is! Where is Legolas' pink outfit?"

The Archer's eyes widened and he felt his throat close slightly.

"Prince Legolas' pink outfit, your Majesty?"

Thranduil's scowl deepened further as he tried to force his memories  
into submission. There was something - a spider? Was it one spider or -  
four? He shook his head. Nay, that could not be it! Spiders indeed! But  
all the same his narrowed eyes moved back to his son. He was sitting with  
Tavor and Brethil, laughing and talking. Why did he feel so strongly that  
he should be quite upset with them?

Tanglinna followed the direction of the king's gaze. He grimaced.  
~Not now! ~ He thought. ~Please not now! ~

"Are you feeling quite well, your Majesty?" He managed, fingers  
twining in the linen napkin on his lap.

"No, I am not! Why should I be angry with them, Tanglinna? Tell  
me!" Suddenly Thranduil turned to the Master Archer. "And with YOU!"

Tanglinna gasped slightly as the hawk like gaze fell upon him. He  
didn't feel very well himself!

"I - I - Your Majesty, I don't know what you are talking about!"

"Don't you?" One eyebrow raised and Tanglinna knew he was done for.

"You were there, Tanglinna. When Legolas cut off his warrior braid! You  
were the one who caught me when I Brethil ran into me!"

The Archer couldn't prevent himself from glancing over at the prince  
who was oblivious of the danger that was suddenly brewing.

"You - you remember that, do you?"

Thranduil's mouth twisted.

"Why do I have the feeling that the way you "phrased" that question  
is very important?" He growled low in his throat.

"I - I - I can't imagine why you would think that? It is just a  
simple question, really!" The Archer hedged. Suddenly all of Tavor's talk  
of Mandos Halls sounded rather pleasant.

Now that Thranduil was making an effort to gather his thoughts  
coherently, images filled his mind. He pursed his lips in concentration.  
Suddenly he started to his feet.

"Don't even think about moving, Tanglinna," he ordered, his voice a  
hiss, more like a spider than an Elven king.

Everyone paused in their activities as the king strode from the room.

Brethil watched him go, assessing him minutely.

"He's remembered," he said taking another bite of the luscious cake  
prepared by Bombur. Creamy, fluffy icing that stood several inches tall  
topped the white cake. It was in the shape of a tree to honor the Elves.

"This is the best thing that I have ever tasted," he continued, oblivious  
to the panicked looks on his friends' faces. "That Dwarf is an excellent  
baker! I wonder if your father has tasted this yet, Legolas."

But the prince was staring across the table at Tanglinna.

The Archer was sitting stiffly, eyes narrowed with anxiety. Slowly  
he raised his head to meet the other's gaze. He shook his head and drew a  
finger across his throat.

"Ai, Valar!" Legolas croaked. "He "has" remembered!"

"I told you," Brethil said, shoveling more cake into his mouth. "You  
really should try this. It is very good!"

"Why can't I remember?! I remembered Bilbo's button, didn't I?" His  
eyes widened. "Oh, no! The Dwarves!" He turned to grasp Tavor's arm. "I  
can't tell him about the Dwarves!" I promised Bilbo I wouldn't! At least  
I think I promised Bilbo that I wouldn't! Help me, Tavor!" He gripped his  
friend's arm like a vise, teeth clamped tightly together.

"It will be so beautiful there," Tavor said in an unconcerned voice.

"So quiet, and peaceful: no one screaming or shrieking; no Dwarves; no  
spiders; no Orcs - singing or otherwise; no one trying to pull your arm  
off. It will be "so" nice."

Legolas backed away from him with a horrified look on his face.

"Mandos Halls again," Brethil murmured ingenuously, licking the  
sugary icing from his fingers. "I think Tanglinna wished to join him. He  
looks rather - upset."

The prince of Mirkwood stared at the Archer who had turned and was  
gazing at the doorway. Legolas' blue eyes traveled there as well. His  
mouth dropped open.

"Now you look rather upset," Brethil commented. "Almost balrogged I  
would say!"

Everyone in the hall looked to see the king standing there, hands  
clenched at his sides.

"WHERE IS CELEB BAUDH??!!"

Tanglinna jumped visibly.

"I am done for," he murmured as the feasters hastily rose and exited  
the hall through the opposite door, as far from the king as possible.

The Archer stood as well, hoping he could make good his own escape,  
but it was not to be.

"Sit down!" Thranduil ordered, advancing slowly into the room

"It is as the footsteps of doom," Brethil intoned, licking his fork.

"We "are" doomed," Tavor said quietly, now that visions of Mandos  
Halls had been scared from his mind by the king's shriek. He pressed his  
hand to his racing heart.

"The king is good and wise." Brethil said, now examining the fork to  
see if he had missed any icing.

"Little Greenleaf, I need to speak with you," Thranduil said, his  
eyes flashing fiercely.

Legolas' legs suddenly began to shake, all the calmness and merriment  
having fled before his father's wrath.

"Adar! I - I don't remember anything! I - I fell into Morn Nen,  
too! I don't know why I can't remember anything and you can! I don't know  
why!"

"Morn Nen? And what were we doing at Morn Nen?"

"He doesn't remember everything it seems."

"Shut up, Brethil!"

"Oh, very well, your Majesty." The young Elf cut another slice of  
cake. "Can't talk when my mouth is full anyway," he grinned.

"I - I don't remember," Legolas began again, nearly tipping his chair  
over as he backed away. But then he "did" remember.

"Oh! Oh! We were getting the jewels back from the spiders!" He  
said, eyes brightening as knowledge once lost came flooding back.

"Spiders?" Thranduil whispered, touching his face. "Spiders!"

"Yes! Yes! You remember! The ones that made up your face! You  
looked like a princess!" He laughed aloud. "I thought it was very funny  
since you had put me into that pink outfit. Poetic justice! Almost! I  
was pretty in pink and you looked like a princess, too, in your makeup!  
Like father, like son!"

Tavor seemed to start from his stupor at this and stared up at the prince  
in disbelief.

"He's turned into you," he murmured in amazement to Brethil behind  
Legolas' back.

The other Elf nodded, eating his cake and for once, not saying  
anything.

Thranduil's face reddened, which should have been a warning sign to  
his son, but Legolas continued heedlessly, ticking various memories off on  
his fingers:

"And there was the hair on your robes. Gwibess did that, but she was  
very sorry and won't do it again. But the two of you would make great  
friends if you would just give her the chance. You both like fancy clothes  
and sparkly things -"

"Shut up, Legolas!" Tavor hissed from the side of his mouth. "Shut  
up!"

"And polishing your gems! Do you recall how many days it took the  
four of us to polish all your gems and things? I thought we would never  
finish!" He grinned at his father. "And then of course there were the  
Orcs!"

"Orcs?"

Mirkwood's prince nodded.

"Yes! They were looking for the Singing Orc Princess," he giggled  
somewhat hysterically. "Fancy that! Singing Orcs! Of course we showed  
them that we are fierce, feral warriors of Mirkwood!" He made what he  
hoped was a fierce, feral face, but the lilies and the green shimmery  
clothing rather ruined the effect.

Thranduil was breathing deeply now, trying to control himself. It  
was one thing to listen to Brethil's inane chatter, but quite another to  
listen to his son's.

"Shut up, Legolas!" Tavor hissed again, tugging on the green robe.

Thranduil drew another deep breath.

"Where is Celeb Baudh?" He asked once again.

"Celeb Baudh? I don't know the answer to that one," Legolas  
shrugged. "But I remember the Wild Berry War!" He grinned hopefully.

"Wild Berry War?"

"It was very fun! You see, it started when Celuon and I started  
throwing berries at one another. Rather like this." He scooped up a small  
piece of Gloin's cake and threw it at his father who now stood a few feet  
away. It splattered on Thranduil's nose.

"Great Valar!" Tanglinna breathed. He had managed to stay in his  
seat as ordered, thus far avoiding the king's notice.

"Legolas!" Tavor gasped.

Brethil frowned slightly.

"The king is good and wise. And sticky. You look balrogged now,  
Tavor. You are wasting it," he pouted cutting a huge chunk from the  
remainder of the large cake and placing it on his plate..

Thranduil glared at his son, who grimaced as he realized what he had  
done. The king wiped the sugar off his face. He stared at it then licked  
it from his fingers. He frowned slightly, then grinned.

"That is quite good actually."

"I told you," Brethil chimed in. "But no one ever listens to me.  
Honestly, I have a great many things to tell you, things that you need to  
know, but you are always telling me -"

"Shut up, Brethil!" Three voices said at once.

"Exactly." Brethil shook his blonde head and continued eating.

Thranduil looked at Legolas once more. Then he deliberately moved,  
closing the distance between them.

"Adar! Please! I - I don't know what just happened! I -"

Suddenly a piece of cake caught him in the face, effectively  
silencing his words.

Tanglinna stared in shock at them, then burst out laughing.

The king and his son turned as one to stare at him, blue eyes  
identical beneath one raised brow.

"You think that was funny, Master Archer of Mirkwood?" Thranduil  
asked.

"Ah, well, no. That is - well -" But before he could vacate his  
seat and gain his freedom, two well aimed pieces of cake hit him.

"You are wasting it!" Brethil gasped again, grabbing the remainder  
from them.

"Oh, truly?" Thranduil winked at Legolas and they advanced on  
Brethil.

Soon all five Elves were covered with sticky cake and icing, laughing  
uproariously. Suddenly a loud shriek filled the air. The Elves cringed,  
never had they heard such a loud noise, not even from their king! As it  
died away, they turned to see Gwibess standing in the doorway.

"What are you doing, Gwibess!?" Legolas asked the spider who was  
still adorned in the first green outfit.

"Thrumb Dumb needs to learn to be nice to the Masters!!" She  
shrieked loudly. "If not I will become the Aran!"

"She was the loudest!" Tavor commented, rubbing his aching ears.

"Even louder than Thrumb Dumb - er - the King - er King Thranduil."

Thranduil looked at Tavor with a glare and then at the giant spider.

"Actually - Gwibess? - I have a necklace that will compliment that  
outfit rather nicely."

The spider's many eyes widened. Then she smiled.

"Truly, O Great Thrumb Dumb?"

"Yes, remind me later and I will give it to you."

The spider pounced across the room with amazing speed. She swept the  
Aran into the air, holding him in at least four of her long legs.

"I always knew you were a nice Aran! I did!"

It was Legolas that laughed first and then Tavor and Brethil. Then  
Tanglinna shook his head and began to shake with mirth as well.

When at last they had managed to calm themselves, Thranduil frowned  
as he was placed on the floor.

"Speaking of jewelry - where is Celeb Baudh?"

 

 

The next day the five Elves headed for Morn Nen. Tanglinna was  
silent, not looking at anyone about him. He had never been so embarrassed  
in his life. Why did he ever think that throwing Celeb Baudh into Morn Nen  
would work? Thranduil had not been amused.

After several hours of hard riding through the forest they  
suddenly reined in. There were voices singing ahead, near the enchanted  
river. They dismounted and moved silently forward. The voices were  
unlovely and gruff though the words carried clearly enough.

"Once the Singing Orc Princess fair and bright,  
Came running to us in the night.  
Joy filled our hearts at that lovely sight  
As the Singing Orc Princess ran fair and bright!"

Legolas' eyes widened in shock and anger!

"They are singing about us!"

 

 

"Then came the Queen so fierce and bright,  
Came running to us in the night.  
Joy filled our hearts at that lovely sight!  
As the Queen ran so fierce and bright!"

"The Queen?" Brethil frowned. Then he smiled. "Oh! Yes! They  
mean you, King Thranduil! They "were" admiring you! That is exactly what  
I had thought!"

Thranduil narrowed his eyes. He didn't like the idea of Orcs singing  
about him. And calling him a Queen no less!

"Their golden hair flowing, so fine and bright,  
As they came running to us in the night!  
Joy filled our hearts at that lovely sight!  
As the Queen and the Princess ran so fine and bright!"

"I will not stand for this!" The king of Mirkwood growled. He drew  
his sword and rushed toward the voices, followed closely by his companions.

"Oh, look!" Brethil gasped, as they broke into the clearing. He  
pointed at the tallest Orc. "He is wearing Celeb Baudh!"

 

 

 

 

"Well, Frodo my lad, what did you think of that little adventure of mine?"

The young Hobbit stared up at his cousin, blue eyes wide. He was  
sitting on his knees, leaning somewhat forward.

"Did that really happen, Cousin Bilbo?" He chirped, the cookie in  
his hand forgotten for sometime now.

"Of course it did. All of it is true. Every word." The older  
Hobbit smiled and winked.

Frodo studied him for a moment, then a shy grin crept over his face.

"Did he really act "that" silly?"

"Yes, he did, the poor prince. He has had some adventures of his own  
it would appear!"

"Do you know any more stories from Mirkwood?" The little Hobbit  
gobbled his cookie, still staring intently at his cousin. -" He giggled.

"Did Legolas get into trouble again? Did Tanglinna get into trouble for  
throwing that crown into Morn Nen? Did King Thranduil remember the Dwarves  
at last? What happened to the Orcs? What about Gwibess? -"

"Slow down, little one! Slow down! Of course I know what happened!  
I did see the Prince at the Battle of Five Armies after all. He told me  
everything." He shook his head. "My goodness! Yes, I know what happened  
in Mirkwood after we left the Wood Elf King's Hall, but that is tale for  
another day, and some others besides. Are you up to a visit to Miss Pip's  
house?" He asked. "I am sure she will be glad to show you the Bubble Pipe  
that once belonged to Prince Let Go Lass!"

Frodo jumped up, eyes bright.

"Really? Will she let me hold it, do you think?"

"I am sure she will let you make bubbles with it!"

Frodo smiled, the blue eyes so bright and happy, and Bilbo felt his  
heart melt. He really did love his little cousin and was glad that the  
sadness that had nigh overwhelmed him earlier seemed to have dissipated.

"Well, come along then! We can clean this mess up later. Perhaps I  
will have another story to tell you then." He held out his hand and Frodo  
took it. The child skipped ahead of him out of Bag End, dragging his  
cousin behind him.

"Will I ever have an adventure, Cousin Bilbo? One with Prince Let Go  
Lass maybe?" He grinned at the joke.

"Who can say, Frodo? One never knows when a Wizard might show up at  
your door. Who can say?"

THE END

 

 

Author's Note - Okay!! There is NO epilogue as this one just ended it  
all! It was not how I planned it, but little in this story has been! Now  
it is off to Hollin, and Rivendell with the Morn Nen wine, and Elrond's  
Council, and the black squirrels, and Glorfindel, and------------  
(TreeHugger gets a rather blank expression on her face) WILL THIS MADNESS  
NEVER END!!!!!! Erm ---Never mind! <G> I want to thank you all for  
reading this story and I hope you have enjoyed following it as much as I  
have enjoyed writing it! You have made me very, very happy with your  
wonderful responses! It has been so much fun! Thank you again!

Author's Note - The Orcs' Song was one that The Sadistic Cow had mentioned  
in an earlier review. Whoever heard of Orcs singing songs??!! Oh, well.  
I guess some of them do! <G>

Author's Note - Balrogged is ziggy's word as she thought of it. We all  
know that look - if you have seen the movie anyway! As in "Ai! Ai, a  
Balrog has come!" Cool word!


End file.
